The Fellowship of the Ring: Into Space
by The.Gemini.Twins12
Summary: Frodo Baggins never knew his cousin, only that he left his family a home and a good amount of gold. On his thirty-third birthday he received an unsuspecting birthday present from his distant cousin. Seventeen years later he receives a message to run. During the journey, the truth comes out and Frodo's life will never be the same again. (Sequel to There and Back Again: Into Space)
1. A Hobbit's Tale

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Hobbit or the Lord of the Rings!_

A/N: _Hey, everyone!_

_Hop on board the Arkenstone for the next great adventure! Your pilots are Fili, Kili, Bilbo, and Merry! The flight might get off to a rocky start, but we should even out from there. Turbulence are expected, as are Orc attacks, creepy hitchhikers, and just the general nuisance of Dwarves in Space plus a few Men, a Wizard, an Elf, and a few Hobbits sprinkled in there. So please buckle up, raise your seat up straight, and prepare for a whacky journey._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><em><strong>The Fellowship of the Ring: Into Space<strong>_

**A Hobbit's Tale**

Old age had not been kind to Peregrin Took. The Hobbit, once a spritely tween on an adventure, was now ninety-five years old. His body could no longer handle him skipping around and leaping onto ships. His joints ached with movement. The arthritis in his right elbow acted up on cold days, leaving him sore for at least a week afterward. The scar in his chest had never faded.

There were many things the Ent Draught could fix, but Peregrin's horrors of the past was not one of them. He would wake from a nightmare in the middle of the night only to remember he was home safe in bed. If it wasn't the nightmares, then it was the general pain of the scar. There were some day he couldn't even get out of bed. On those days – in Gondar, at least – there was always someone by his bedside. Normally it was Legolas, Tauriel, Faramir, or even Aragorn. Once upon a time that had been Meriadoc Brandybuck, his cousin and best friend. But no longer. Not since the August of this last year.

At the ripe age of seventy, his eyesight had stared to go. By seventy-three he was completely blind. His son bought him a walking stick to use, though he rarely did. His eyesight may have gone, but it did nothing to awareness He still heard clear as day, even if the other person was clear across the universe. He depended more on this than his sight.

Once upon a time, Peregrin – known as "Pippin" or "Pip" by his friends – had been one of four Hobbits who went on the adventure. With Meriadoc having passed on and Sam and Frodo gone out to the Elves' System that left him alone. He kept in touch with Frodo. Sam had passed away a few years before, content in his life with the Elves. Galadriel even kept her contact with Pippin, speaking with him at the most inopportune times. These were mainly times when Pippin's mind had begun to wander. His son, Faramir II could find him sitting in a chair for hours on end just staring out a window. Pippin didn't really mind it. He enjoyed his conversations with Galadriel.

A hand tapped Pippin on the shoulder gently, drawing him from his thoughts. The elderly Hobbit had chosen to spend the September afternoon at his friend's graveside seated on a stone park bench. Someone had brought him second breakfast earlier, a kind boy with a strong sense of loyalty, but Pippin had hardly paid attention to it. Turning his head, Pippin listened intently. He smiled when he recognized the newcomer.

"Faramir," he greeted happily.

"I thought you would've heard me coming," Faramir commented. He moved to sit down beside Pippin, steadying the Hobbit when he made to move. "No, please, don't move because of me."

"I'm sorry, Faramir," Pippin said as he settled back down. His right hand groped for his walking stick. It had fallen sometime when he hadn't been paying attention. "I was thinking."

"About Merry?" Faramir asked, and Pippin's heart twinged with loss. A strong, apologetic hand patted his shoulder. Faramir didn't need to speak to console Pippin for his loss. Their bond went deeper than words could ever go. It always had, ever since they'd met.

"No, actually, I was thinking about Frodo," Pippin said. He turned his head in the direction of Merry's grave. Several times Aragorn had offered him a pair of shaded glasses and each time he'd refused. He was proud to wear his marks of old age. It meant he'd survived.

"How is Frodo doing?" Faramir asked. "I miss seeing him around here."

"He's holding on," Pippin sad sadly. "But he'll be going soon." Faramir patted his shoulder once more and Pippin smiled up at him. "I'm not worried," he said. "He has lots of friends nearby to help him. Galadriel, Gandalf, Elrond . . . They'll all help him."

"You have friends too," Faramir reminded him. "In fact, you've some visitors today." Pippin perked up at the mention of visitors. People rarely came to see him anymore. His children lived too far away to see unless they chatted over the Roots. Faramir II would update his father on how he'd been as acting Thain ever since Pippin's departure. It warmed Pippin's heart to know his son was doing well.

"Who's come?" Pippin asked. Even though he already knew the answer he loved hearing the words come from Faramir's mouth.

"The Dirty Baker's Dozen," Faramir said, and Pippin's leapt for joy. He was off the stone bench in a second, his hand reaching for the walking stick. It jumped into his fingers, most likely thanks to Faramir's quiet aid, and a strong hand took his own. "They're waiting in the front courtyard. My Lord Elessar has given them the area for use for as long as they need."

"How I miss seeing good old Strider," Pippin sighed. If Faramir had anything to say, he didn't voice it aloud. A moment of silence told Pippin the Man, in fact, had nothing to say to that.

Faramir led Pippin through the halls of the palace. Merry and Pippin had chosen to spend their last few years on Gondor. The decision had been made when Eomer had called for Merry to visit him. The two friends had made the journey in time to be at the King's side when he passed on. Merry had wept openly and quietly for days. Pippin had remained by his friend's side, offering as much comfort as he could.

"Here we are," Faramir said. His voice, once again, dragged Pippin from his thoughts. The Hobbit shook his head. He really needed to start paying more attention. All this spacing out was leading to gaps in memory and confusion, not to mention too many conversations with the Lady Galadriel. Then again, she always seemed happy to oblige to Pippin's desire for a conversation. Not once in the many years that Pippin had known her had she turned him aside.

"Pippin!" a young voice cried out. Pippin grinned wickedly. Already he could see the lanky dark hair and stubble of a beard.

"Pip!" another voice called. A mane of blond hair, so much like a lion's, with a beautiful mustache to match. "There you are. We've been waiting forever. Ow!"

"That is enough, you two," a voice growled. Black hair braided delicately and a beard kept short for mourning. A pity Thorin had never been able to grow it out. Those dratted medical mites just had to ruin everything.

"I'll leave you to it," Faramir said, releasing his hold of Pippin's hand. "I'm a call away if you need me." Pippin nodded. The Man patted him one more time on the shoulder before leaving. Turning back to the, surely large, group of Dwarves, Pippin let his awareness go. They were all present, every single one, including a certain Hobbit.

"How're you feeling, lad?" Bilbo asked from a short distance away.

"Still kicking," Pippin joked. He began to move forward, tapping his walking stick back and forth. A calloused hand landed on his arm, the knuckledusters brushed his bare skin as the thick fingers wrapped around his own. Dwalin led him slowly forward where Dori and Balin helped ease him into a chair.

"Thank you," Pippin said to the Dwarves. Dori stroked his hair gently before giving him the gentlest of head-butts. "It's great to see you all again." Someone snorted to his left followed by a smack then a yelp.

"Sorry," Kili mumbled, and Pippin's wicked grin returned.

"You can't blame him for laughing," he told Thorin. "I am blind, anyway. No harm in laughing."

"You do not know my nephews well enough," Thorin said, though he sounded relaxed. "Give them an inch and they will take a mile."

"Sounds like me," Pippin crowed. Several of the Dwarves around him laughed. He waited patiently, chuckling to himself, for the crew to quiet down. Once they had, Nori still guffawing, he chose to address the elephant in the room. "So . . . why're you all here." Nori's guffaw cut short at that. Someone shifted nervously around. Pippin couldn't tell who. He'd never been good at the boot sizes.

"The Government, er, new Government," Bilbo began. Pippin listened earnestly, trying his hardest to follow manners' protocol. "They want the entire story written down for the history books. And, well, seeing as . . ."

"I'm the only Hobbit left," Pippin finished. He was sure Bilbo nodded and then realized he was nodding to a blind man. There was nothing else that long silence could have been.

"Well, yes," Bilbo said. "And you have contact with Frodo. So we were wondering if you'd be willing to share yours and Frodo's stories."

"What about yours?" Pippin asked.

"Oh, I've already written it," Bilbo said.

"He did," Kili interrupted. "_There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale_ by Bilbo Baggins." Another smack, another yelp. "Sorry."

"But you had a part in this story," Pippin argued. "In our story. You all did. I mean . . . Bree and Moria and the War of the Ring. You were all there."

"And that, laddie," Balin said to his right. "Is why we thought it would be better if we all told our stories together. You, Bilbo, and us the crew." Pippin was silent for several long minutes. He heard the shuffling of feet and sniffling of noses. Then realization dawned on him.

"You're leaving," he said.

"Aye," Thorin answered in his deep voice. Pippin turned his head in his direction, gripping the walking stick tightly. "But not for another few years. We plan to head for the Elves' System with Gimli, Legolas and Tauriel. And they will not go until . . ."

"Until Strider and I are gone," Pippin finished. He heard a sigh and just _knew_ Thorin was nodding. "Alright, great, where do we start?"

"I suppose we start at the very beginning," Bilbo said.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit," Kili said. Pippin heard him clap his hands together.

"Not that beginning!"

"Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole full of the ends of worms and oozy smells," Fili continued.

"I said not that far!"

"This was a Hobbit hole," Bofur said. Pippin was fairly certain the Dwarf was drunk . . . again. This should prove interesting.

"Would you listen to me?"

"Which means good food," Nori said.

"Why aren't you listening to me?"

"A warm hearth," Dwalin said.

"Knock it off!"

"And all the comforts of home," Thorin finished. Bilbo huffed and stomped his foot. Pippin, though, laughed. This was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard, aside from the time he and Merry had pranked Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

"Are you done?" Bilbo huffed.

"Maybe," Bofur said mischievously. Pippin wiped a tear from his eyes.

"Well," he said. "If your story starts in a hole in the ground then so does ours. Seventeen years before our great adventure you sent Frodo a birthday present: a shiny sword, a mithril coat, and a pretty little ring that he should _never, ever_ wear in public . . .

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Still here? Good. All complaints to the pilots may be made out in the boxes below. Please note that all are looked over and flames will be used to fuel the Arkenstone. Thank you for joining us on our flight through our Big Damn Adventure._


	2. Bomb Shelter Festivities

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Hobbit or the Lord of the Rings!_

A/N: _Hey, everyone!_

_And we kick off the Lord of the Rings with the very first chapter! A forewarning to you, this story will, in fact, star Frodo (who I will try to make likable) and his companions. The Dwarves will appear as background characters a bit later. But not too late! This chapter ended up being a bit more of explanation and setting the scene. There are a few things you really needed to know._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Bomb Shelter Festivities<strong>

_September 5091, Hobbiton, Shire System_

Sitting in the dark, dank area of the bomb shelter was not how Frodo Baggins had planned to spend his afternoon. The Autumn Fair was today. The marketplace would been overflowing with bounties of sweets, ale, and the finest pipe-weed fresh from the South Farthing moon. The children would have been dancing and playing tag around the Party Tree, the fauntling lasses' dresses blowing in the breeze. The starlight would have been warm on Frodo's face. But no, he had to be trapped here, in a large, dark room surrounded by all the other families of the Hobbiton moon.

All right, so maybe the bomb shelter wasn't exactly teeming with rats and infestation. Nor was it dark or dank. The area was quite large and well-lit by the floating bulbs above. Multiple screens high on the walls played children's movies or soap operas to give people something to do. Each family was designated a bunk consisting of two beds made of wooden beams and goose-down mattresses. Digital screens could be drawn across the bunks to give families privacy. They could even be blacked out. The bunks would instantly begin to ventilate fresh oxygen into the area for the family.

Frodo sighed to himself and rubbed at his face. Maybe that's why he hated being in the bomb shelter. All around him were families laughing and smiling together. Children raced back and forth or cuddled with their parents. Their parents. Through the digital screen, Frodo watched a few of his younger cousins run squealing into their parents' arms. His own parents had died in a ship accident when he had only been twelve years old. Naturally, a twelve year-old could not be expected to run his own house. Bilbo Baggins – a Hobbit of System-renowned – had passed down his _smial_ – known fondly as Bag-End – to his cousin Fosco Baggins. With the passing Fosco, the _smial_ was passed down to his oldest son Drogo who then passed it down to Frodo with his untimely death. Too young to live alone, Frodo had been sent by the Mayor of the Shire to live with his uncle on the outer belt of Buckland.

Hobbits were a naturally friendly race. Gandalf, on many accounts, had been known to describe them as "touchy-feely". The words really didn't help his reputation in the System. Though, he wasn't wrong. Since they were able to walk, fauntlings were known to seek out their parents' comfort for any reason: whether it be a nightmare or simply to cuddle. As they grew older, and even well past thirty-three, they were known to seek their parents for comfort. If it wasn't their parents then it was the next closest relative nearby; aunt, cousin, or grandparent. Only once they had married did they look to someone else for comfort: their spouse.

Losing his parents at twelve years old, Frodo had never had a parent to comfort him. Brandy Hall was much too large a _smial_ and had too many families for Frodo to find any comfort there. Perhaps that was why he'd spent more of his time running around with Merry and Pippin then among the adults.

"Still moping to yourself?" Frodo looked up from his arms to see Merry leaning against his bunk. His younger cousin had his arms and ankles crossed. He wore a relaxed yet mischievous grin on his face.

"I'm not moping," Frodo said. Merry snorted and shook his head, shoving himself off the bunk. "I'm not! What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be on Buckland?"

"Pip and I were visiting," Merry said. "Mind if we come in?" He motioned to the digital curtain Frodo had drawn. Naturally, it was rather rude in Hobbit culture to simply barge into another's _smial_ or bunk, in this case. Frodo shrugged noncommittally. "Great, let me go find Pip. The guest area's a bore." Frodo watched his cousin disappear into the sea of Hobbits before letting his mind wander once more.

He had been minding his own business this morning, preparing for the Autumn Fair, when the call had come in from Buckland. Air raids. It was a well-known fact throughout the System that Dwarves were a greedy race. For one reason or another, the race had targeted the Shire System. They floated on the outskirts of the System and occasionally sent shuttles in to drop bombs on the unsuspecting planets. Though an air raid had never struck Hobbiton before, the Hobbits there were still expected to descend into the bomb shelter. This air raid had been a particularly unique one. The Dwarves had targeted Hobbiton exactly for reasons unknown to its inhabitants. The call had come nearly six hours ago and there was still no all-clear from Buckland. Frodo was starting to get antsy.

"Here we are." The digital screen slid open, snapping Frodo back from his thoughts. Merry hauled his younger cousin and best friend/mischief-maker into the bunk. Pippin fell to the mattress with a thump, rolling over almost instantly. Frodo's heart pounded against his chest when he saw the pained expression.

"Is he alright?"

"Just migraines," Merry said seriously. He used a hand to gently roll Pippin onto his side then placed a pillow over his friend's face. "It's all the sounds in here."

"I'm blocking them," Frodo said in confusion. He had chosen to semi-blackout and mute the digital curtain for his own privacy. He didn't like people sulking.

"Won't help. We just have to wait for the migraines to go away." Frodo sat back on his bunk with a huff. A whine escaped out from under the pillow. Merry patted Pippin's shoulder consolingly.

This wasn't the first time Frodo had seen his friend like this. Ever since Pippin had been young, he'd been plagued by migraines. They came at the worst of times and put him out of contact for hours, sometimes even days, at a time. He had lived in Tuckborough on the Westfarthing moon for the beginning of his life before his parents had found a medic on Buckland who could help. Merry's mother had insisted Pippin live with them while she tried to cure her nephew's migraines. Pippin had been living in Brandy Hall ever since. His condition had neither grown worse nor better in his time there.

"Do you need any medicine?" Frodo asked weakly. He didn't quite know how much it would help.

"Do you have morphine?"

"I have some painkillers."

"Nah, I had need something would knock him out for a few hours." Frodo shook his head, his heart sinking. Pippin whined again under the pillow. "Thanks for trying," Merry said. His shoulders slumped when Pippin wriggled on the mattress.

"I just wish there was more I could do," Frodo admitted. Merry gave him a sideways look that made Frodo's heart leap. "Is there?" he asked hopefully.

"Could you give us a bit of privacy?" Merry asked. Frodo's face fell. "No offense, but that's why I didn't want to stay in the guest area. No digi-screens."

"Sure," Frodo said. Anything for Pippin. Crawling across the bunk, he grabbed the silver bar at one end and slid it along the rail. The dark gray digi-screen vanished into the other end of the bunk until Frodo climbed out and slid it shut once more. The last thing he saw before the screen going to full blackout was Merry lying down beside Pippin.

Sighing to himself, Frodo began to make his way through the crowds of Hobbits. There wasn't really anywhere else he could go. The Sackville-Bagginses would gladly loan him the upper bunk of their area. But then they would grip loudly enough for him to hear about why he inherited Bag-End and they didn't. Frodo really didn't want to listen to that for the next few hours.

With no other choice, Frodo went in search of his best friend and gardener Samwise Gamgee. The Gamgee family had been living in the _smial_ under Bag-End at Bagshot Row for as long as Frodo could remember. Hamfast had worked for Bilbo as a gardener and continued to do so, requested by Bilbo Baggin's living will. He had started to teach his son the ways of the earth, though Sam seemed more interested in Elves than plants.

"_I'd like to see Elves one day, Mr. Frodo,"_ Sam would say, and Frodo would just laugh and shake his head. There wouldn't be Elves in the Shire System any time soon. No other race ever entered the System.

Frodo found his friend at the family bunk on the other side of the bomb shelter. Sam had his eyes trained on Rosie Cotton, the daughter of Tolman Cotton. Frodo knew that look. Sam was love-sick again.

"If you stare any longer, Rosie's going to know soon enough." Sam jumped at his voice. He twisted around, a guilty look on his face.

"There's no harm in looking," the gardener said. "Why aren't you at your bunk, Mr. Frodo?"

"Merry and Pippin needed it," Frodo said. He took the free space offered by Sam.

"Migraines again?" Sam asked. Frodo nodded. "Bless me, why can't Mrs. Esmeralda cure him already?"

"I don't think you can cure migraines," Frodo commented.

"Like asthma?" Sam asked. He frowned at Frodo. "Do you have your inhaler with you?" Frodo shook his head slightly. "Mr. Frodo, you can't leave your house without it. Don't you remember what happened at the last Autumn Fair?" How could Frodo forget? He'd collapsed into a fit of coughs after another Hobbit had accidentally blown pollen into his face from picked flowers. Sam had been the one to run all the way back to Bagshot Row for Frodo's inhaler.

"We're underground, Sam," Frodo said. Sam frowned, as though this didn't change anything. "Look, the area's no clean. No dust mites, no stress, no thunderstorms. I'm fine."

"I don't think so. You should still be careful."

"You worry too much."

"Only because you don't worry enough," Sam retorted, and Frodo laughed. The two reclined back on the bunk. Sam turned his attention back to Rosie Cotton who was talking to her younger brother. "Curfew'll be up when we're out."

"I know," Frodo said. A few younger Bagginses and a Bolger raced past squealing.

"Merry and Pippin'll be trapped until tomorrow morning. Are you going to let them into Bag-End?"

"What else am I going to do?" Frodo asked. Sam shrugged, not tearing his eyes away from Rosie. "If I throw them out on the street no one else will take them in. They're family."

"I know, Mr. Frodo. That's what makes you different from other Hobbits." Frodo didn't answer. Sam was perhaps right about that.

Not many Hobbits liked the Tooks or Brandybucks. The Tooks were general nuisances to the System. They affiliated themselves with Gandalf when the Wizard came visiting and even joined him for short journeys through the System. Brandybucks, on the other hand, were the only known Hobbits comfortable with flying ships. They were generally the pilots who shuttle Hobbits back and forth between the moons. Seeing your family was nearly impossible if you didn't like to fly. Just because you didn't pilot the ship didn't mean you couldn't fly, though. The Brandybucks were always happy to help, if only to fly more shuttles around. The Tooks and Brandybucks went hand-in-hand together. The Tooks knew anything and everything about engines while the Brandybucks knew how to handle a ship. Together they domineered the flying market. Merry and Pippin were perhaps the best known tag-team when it came to flying. They flew a ship with barely a word spoken between each other and hadn't crashed yet.

Frodo and Sam watched Rosie for a few more minutes before Marigold, Sam's youngest sister, dragged them into a game of hide-and-seek. Only after promising Sam he wouldn't overexert himself was Frodo allowed to play. Sometimes he thought his friend worried too much. They played hide-and-seek with a few of the younger Hobbits until the all-clear came out. By that time Sam and Frodo had gotten in trouble four times with the fauntlings. According to the faunts, they weren't playing right. They had to be found at some point. Sam and Frodo stood by their belief that the idea of the game was to hide so the seekers could find them.

"All clear," a voice squawked over an intercom. Several fauntlings screamed in delight from finally being free. There were only so many times they could watch movies before they got bored. "The shelling's stopped."

"Finally," Sam muttered, swinging his legs off his bed. "I think that's a new record, seven hours."

"It wasn't that bad," Frodo said. Sam scowled at him and he laughed. "All right, it was bad. At least you got to watch Rosie Cotton."

"Mr. Frodo!"

"Sam, take Marigold back home," the Gaffer called from down the bunk. "You mam and I need to talk."

"Yes, da," Sam said in a bored voice. The tone was lost on his father's deafening ears who turned back to speak with his wife, Bell Goodchild. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Frodo. Stay safe. I think there's supposed to be rain tonight."

"I'll be fine," Frodo assured his friend. Sam patted him on the shoulder before he wandered off to find his younger sister.

Frodo remained seated on the Gamgee's bunk as the rest of the Hobbits trailed out of the bomb shelter. Sheets were pulled across the bed, pillows fluffed, and the digi-shields were returned to their cradles. Parents hunted down their children. Friends rounded up their visitors. Mother carried exhausted faunts on their hips as they made their way toward the ramps. A few Hobbits were talking about the Dwarf ship they swore they'd seen. It was codswallop. A Dwarf ship could never get this far into the Shire System.

The bomb shelter was nearly empty by the time Merry found Frodo. The younger Hobbit supported a pale Pippin on one shoulder. Frodo stood and hooked one of Pippin's arms over his own shoulder. Pippin moaned and winced, the drawn pain slowly fading.

"Thanks," Merry muttered to Frodo. "He starts to get a little heavy after a while."

"Is he doing any better?" Frodo asked worriedly. The two friends and distant cousins began to drag Pippin out of the shelter.

"Not really. I thought he was doing better at one point. But I was wrong."

"I might have something that could help him in Bag-End." Merry grunted and hefted Pippin's arm further up his shoulder. Together they carried Pippin through the maze of bunks and up the ramp.

A hover-cart was waiting for them at the top of the ramp. Attached to the front was Frodo's hover-bike. It had moved up through the line of disappearing hover-carts, waiting for its master. Frodo helped Merry lift their friend into the back of the hover-cart before flipping the ramp shut. It folded in on itself, becoming no more than a slat of wood. Frodo made his way around the cart to the hover-bike. He had bought it brand new with a bit of money his distant cousin had left him. Fosco had hardly used any of the gold or gems and Drogo hadn't lived nearly long enough to have spent it all. Frodo found himself constantly counting the gold to make sure he still had enough to live on. Each count brought up the same answer. He'd be good for a good ten more years.

The hover-bike started with the turn of the chip, the engine rolling over under the seat. With a gentle whir it began the trip along the track toward Bag-End. The hexagonal panels of the roads, made to resemble dirt paths, made an electronic path for the hover-bikes to follow. Without it, the hover-bikes were almost completely useless. Blackouts tended to leave Hobbits without travel through the towns.

Frodo reached Bag-End in less than twenty minutes. He parked the hover-bike behind his _smial_. Swinging himself off the bike, he hurried around to let his friends out. Pippin slid down the released ramp and landed on a damp patch of earth. Merry dropped out of the cart with a bit more grace.

"You're impossible," he muttered under his breath, hefting his friend back onto his feet.

"You still like me, yeah?" Pippin asked through a strained voice.

"'Course. Can't imagine living without you."

Frodo grabbed Pippin's arm and helped carry him into the _smial_. The round, green door swung open at his voice-authorized unlock. They dragged Pippin into the entrance hall.

"I'll get him to bed," Merry told Frodo, taking all of Pippin's weight himself. "Thanks for your help."

"No problem," Frodo said. Merry disappeared down the side hall, dragging Pippin with him. All the way down Pippin started to sing a drinking song while Merry told him to shut up.

Frodo busied himself with shutting and locking the door before he made his way toward the kitchen. He'd missed several meals during the bomb shelter, all of which would need to be made up for with an evening snack. He had just begun to pull out the ham and cheese from the fridge when something dinged. Straightening up, a cheese-stick in each hand, Frodo looked around the kitchen. His eyes fell on the small computer positioned under the window. The blue screen flickered with a new message. Curious, Frodo shut the fridge and made his way toward the machine. The letter icon pulsed red, the words _message in inbox_, scrolling across the screen. Frodo pressed the icon. The message unfolded. Words typed across the screen.

_Frodo,_

_I know you still have the ring. Get out of the Shire System. They're coming for you. Make for Bree. Gandalf will meet you there. Only take someone you trust._

_B.B._

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Like I said, a lot of explanation. I'm trying to keep most of the simple facts of the Lord of the Rings in the story while at the same time following the bare bones of the plot line. Hence, we start several chapters into the book and completely skip a birthday party! Duh, Bilbo's not in the Shire System anymore! Tell me the truth. Was Frodo bland? I'm trying to write him without hating him. Also, I don't know much about asthma. I get everything off the internet, so feel free to give me any info you can! Toodles!_

_Pollux of the Gemini Twins_


	3. Kitchen Shenanigans

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good evening!_

_I regret to announce that we are experiencing some slight turbulence. The pilots have been forced to alter our flight plans. We should still reach our destination one time so, please, sit back and enjoy the flight!_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Kitchen Shenanigans<strong>

_September 22__nd__ 5064, Hobbiton, Shire System_

For the first time since he was twelve, Frodo stood before the round, green doors. He had fond memories of his father vocally unlocking the door and his mother carrying him in after a tiring night of playing games. But no longer. His parents had been dead for twenty-one years. It was just Frodo now. Now thirty-three, he had the rights to inherit Bag-End and live in it once more. The Sackville-Bagginses were furious. Taking a steadying breath, Frodo spoke in a clear voice.

"Frodo Baggins, open up."

The golden door knob, a sensor in reality, flickered and beeped. The sounds of the locks turning were muffled through the green-painted wood. The door swung open silently to allow Frodo entrance. He stepped slowly over the rim of the door. A light flickered on, lighting up the dark entrance hall. Cobwebs hung from the corners. Spiders and mice alike skittered across the floors and walls. Frodo swallowed. He'd never liked spiders. They freaked him out.

In the center of the entrance hall, right where Frodo would find it, was a brown package. A cream envelope had been carefully placed atop it. Someone had drawn a clear ring through dust around the brown paper-wrapped box. Curious, Frodo moved to crouch beside the box and took the envelope. His name had been scrawled across it in spidery letter. Flipping the letter over revealed the red seal of wax emblazoned with a sun. Frodo broke the seal with a finger and pulled the paper out, unfolding it. The words were written in the same handwriting as the name on the envelope. The letter began with his very own name.

_My dear Frodo,_

_ Happy birthday. Thirty-three, what a big year for you. You're entering your first stage of adulthood. My advice to you is this: just because you're an adult now doesn't mean you have to let go of your childhood; stay in touch with your younger friends; you won't regret it. I don't suppose anyone's told you much about me, but I'm your distant cousin. We share the same birthday, actually. Today I'm today one hundred and eleven. Bless me, together we are one hundred and forty-four, a _gross_. _– Frodo smiled at that. A _gross_ was not considered a nice way to talk about Hobbits – _If I was at home I would have thrown a party of special magnificence. But I'm not. Instead I'm sitting at a Station writing to you. I won't be able to stay long. They might find me. I suppose it's time I tell you just why I'm writing to you._

_ Now that you're thirty-three, you have complete ownership of Bag-End. See to it that the SB's don't get a hold of it. I'd be rolling in my grave if I was dead if you did that. I digress. Go to my father's old study and lift the floorboards. Beneath them you will find a treasure chest. Don't mind the smell. It's troll. The treasure is yours to use. There should be enough to last you a good long while. Use it well. If I were you, I would buy myself a nice birthday present. Consider it a gift from me._

_ Before you should be a paper box, unless the mice have somehow gotten a hold of it. Those would be some rather fat mice . . . and dead. Metal's not good for their systems. Again, I digress. Within the box are three objects I would like you to hold onto for me. Consider them a temporary birthday present. There is a mithril shirt of rings, a sword named _Sting_, and a golden ring. _Never_ wear the ring in public. No one can know about it. The shirt of rings you can donate to Michel Delving if you want to, but I would recommend hanging onto it. It's stronger than Dragon-hide and lighter than a feather. It could come in handy. The sword you can stow away or put on the mantle as a decoration. It's Elvish, glows blue when _– whatever had been written next had been scratched out – _you hardly need to know about them. As for the ring. Lock it away. Keep it secret. Keep it safe._

_Happy birthday and congratulations._

_Your Uncle,_

_Bilbo Baggins_

The letter fluttered to the floor as Frodo turned his attentions to the box before him. His heart beat against his ribcage like a hummingbird. The box looked unsuspecting enough. There was even a small knife to crack it open on top of it. Grabbing the knife, Frodo slit the tape holding the box shut. The paper fell to the sides. The box was a small, silver crate no longer than his leg. Two silver latches held the crate shut. Frodo tried at the latches but they didn't flip.

"Come on," Frodo muttered, his fingers dancing along the seam of the box. "Open up." Something within the box whirred. The locks clanked back and forth and the latches flipped up. Frodo blinked in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that. Grabbing the edge of the box, he flipped it open.

Within the box were three items. The first, on top of everything else, was a short sword. The blade had been shaped like a slender leaf. Elvish scrawl ran across the silver surface. Frodo lifted the sword and held it before him. It was lighter than anything else he'd held before. Of course, he didn't know the first thing about swords. _Sting_ was set aside as he turned his attention back to the box. The mithril shirt has been folded carefully. Bilbo wasn't lying. Though it looked heavy, the shirt was as light as a feather when Frodo lifted it out. He shook the shirt and the rings jingled back and forth. It was set aside for later inspection. In the corner of the box was a small gold ring. Upon inspection, Frodo found there was nothing special about it. It was a simple band with no marking, not even a blemish of age.

_Keep it secret. Keep it safe._

_September 5091, Hobbiton, Shire System_

_Frodo,_

_I know you still have the ring. Get out of the Shire System. They're coming for you. Make for Bree. Gandalf will meet you there. Only take someone you trust._

_B.B._

Frodo's fingers hovered over the computer screen. His heart pounded in his throat. That was impossible. There was no way Bilbo Baggins could still be alive. He had one hundred and eleven at the time of Frodo's thirty-third birthday. That would make him nearly one hundred and thirty now. He was almost as old as the Old Took!

"Frodo," Merry called from the bedroom down the hall. "Do you have any _Morphotar_?" Frodo shook himself out of the stupor and turned his attention away from the screen.

"In the bathroom," he answered. Merry made an enquiring sound and he repeated himself in a higher voice.

"Could you get it for me? Pip won't let go of me." Shaking his head in disbelief, Frodo abandoned the message on the screen and made his way down to the bathroom. The message remained forgotten as he prepared for bed and fell asleep.

O.o.O

_Ding . . . Ding . . . Ding . . . _Frodo cracked an eye open at the insistent sound in his ear. Starlight streamed through his bedroom curtains. Songbirds greeted the morning with enthusiasm only an animal could have. Frodo's alarm clock, a square device no larger than a deck of cards, pulsed blue. The numbers _7:48_ flickered in orange. Frodo groaned to himself as the alarm clock dinged again. His alarm wasn't supposed to go off until eight o'clock. That could only mean there was a message.

Crawling out from under his warm comforter, Frodo reached out toward the alarm clock. The sensors on the top read his fingerprints with a soft whir. They flickered white twice then projected a holographic screen into the air above the alarm clock. Frodo read it then groaned to himself.

_Frodo,_

_They are coming for the ring. If they find you with it then they will kill you. You have to get out of the Shire System._

_Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,_

_Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,_

_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_

_One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne._

_B.B._

This new message brought back the memory of the one from last night. Frodo had no idea who _B.B._ was. He played momentarily with the idea that maybe, just maybe, it could be Bilbo. But then he had to remind himself that Bilbo was dead. He had been for seventeen years. There was no way anyone could have lived as long as the Old Took had.

"Pippin!" the muffled shout carried through Frodo's bedroom door. He sighed to himself. With Merry and Pippin shouting back and forth he wasn't going to get anymore sleep in this morning. Grumpy with this thought, Frodo rolled out of bed, turned off his alarm clock, and made his way from the bedroom down to the kitchen.

Merry stood in the center of the kitchen with his hands on his hips. His head of once auburn curls were now nearly pure white with flour. The fine powder gave him a mask down to his nose. It puffed up when he exhaled hard. The culprit of the incident, Pippin, stood on a kitchen counter with the bag of flour in his arms. The bottom had been torn apart, hence the flour on Merry's head, and the top was open. Pippin's entire face was as white as a clown's mask. The radio played oldies in the background, masking most of Merry's shouting.

"What in the System is going on here?" Frodo demanded. Merry paused in mid-rant and turned to look at him. Pippin at the audacity to look sheepish. He even dropped the empty flour bag to the littered kitchen floor. Frodo crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"We were making you breakfast," Pippin said carefully. "Since it's your birthday."

"Pippin here was supposed to make the pancakes," Merry explained. "But he was going to put too much flour in the batter."

"It's how my mam makes them," Pippin argued. Merry threw a glob of flour wet with water at his friend's head. It hit Pippin smack dab in the middle of his forehead. Pippin blinked in surprise. Frodo couldn't help it. There was no way he could stay mad at these two for very long.

"You two are impossible," he laughed. "I hope you're going to clean this mess up."

"After breakfast, yeah?" Pippin said hopefully. Frodo nodded and the tween brightened considerably. "Excellent, I'll make the pancakes."

"Oh no you don't," Merry countered. "I'm not letting you near any more flour."

Thirty minutes, a shouting match, and two batches of flour batter later the three sat down to eat breakfast. Frodo had opted to make them all Sunnyside up eggs. It was a tad easier to do with Merry and Pippin wrestling over the batter bowl. All it took was a pan and a spatula. No arguing needed.

"Fifty years old," Pippin said. "You're a codger now." Frodo huffed in amusement, sending Pippin a scowl. The tween just chuckled and dug into his eggs.

"Are you going to pull a Bilbo?" Merry asked. Pippin's head snapped up, his eye lit with excited expectation. Frodo looked between his friends in confusion.

"Pull a what?" he asked.

"A Bilbo," Merry said. Frodo frowned. "You know, disappear off on some grand adventure and never be seen again?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've never heard the story of Bilbo?" Pippin demanded, and Frodo shook his head. "Bless me, I thought you knew. You should hear what my parents say about you."

"No, I really don't think he does," Merry said. Pippin sat back down in his seat from where he had stood, preparing to give his mother's speech. "I suppose Pip would be the best one to tell you the story." Frodo's confusion only grew. He looked between his friends helplessly.

"Bilbo's mam was my great-aunt," Pippin explained. "Never knew her myself, but my granda always talked about her."

"Adalgrim," Frodo said for clarification.

"Aye, his da, Hildigrim used to tell my granda all sorts of stories. Apparently Bilbo was a weird child. He didn't get along well with the other children and was always disappearing into the forest. The older he got the more paranoid he was."

"My mam says that's why he was a bachelor," Merry interrupted. Pippin opened his mouth to argue but Merry shot him a look that shut the mouth with a snap. "He didn't get along with other people, always seeing suspicious behavior where there wasn't. When his parents died, he just . . . disappeared. He didn't talk to anyone. No one saw him outside his hole for a long time."

"Then Gandalf came, yeah?" Pippin said, and Merry nodded. "Gandalf visited him the same year Bilbo turned fifty-one. He took Bilbo with a couple of other Tooks and Brandybucks outside of the System."

"What happened?" Frodo asked curiously.

"They were killed," Merry said. Frodo's eyes widened. Merry nodded sadly. "Apparently some Men boarded their ship and killed everyone there. Bilbo died on the ship with everyone else. Gandalf told all the families after he returned from his journey."

"Which was a lie, and we all know it." Frodo looked to Pippin. His head spun with the words that came out of Pippin's mouth. "A couple months after the attack Gandalf came back with a living will from Bilbo. It was signed by seven witnesses all in red ink, so the Mayor couldn't say no to it."

"Is Bilbo still alive?" Frodo asked, his head feeling dizzy with all this new information.

"No one knows," Merry said. "Gandalf swears Bilbo was alive when he brought the living will. But if he was still alive today then he'd be . . . one hundred and twenty-eight years old."

"A codger," Pippin commented. It earned him a smack on the head from Merry. "Ow!"

"Be nice, Pip." Frodo shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed to take this in, understand what was happening.

"He had to be alive seventeen years ago," he said. Merry and Pippin turned curious eyes on him. "I received a letter from him the day I turned thirty-three. He left me the money and a birthday gift."

"Maybe it was in the will to leave the gift, yeah?" Pippin offered as an explanation, but Frodo shook his head.

"No, the box had just been wrapped. Besides, no one else could have gotten into Bag-End. The lock is voice activated."

"Just so long as you don't go off on some journey like Bilbo did," Merry joked. "We like you right where you are, safe and making trouble." Frodo smiled in amusement. The smile dropped when the music cut off on the radio.

"_We interrupt your daily music for this announcement."_ Pippin stilled in his seat, his fork twirling lazily between his fingers. Merry tensed in his seat. _"Yesterday at one o'clock the Dwarves made their move. They carried out an air raid that ranged from Buckland toward Hobbiton. Thankfully, they didn't make it further than the Eastfarthing moon. The death toll is as follows: Marmadas Brandybuck . . . Mosco and Myrtle Burrows . . ._

"Poor Milo," Pippin moaned. Merry shushed him.

"_Doderic Brandybuck . . . and Berilac Brandybuck. To all who lost loved ones, our hearts go out to you . . ."_

The rest of the words were lost. Merry gave an agonizing howl and slumped out of his chair. Frodo was out of his in a second. His chair clattered backward to the floor as he rushed toward his friend. Pippin was already there, wrapping his arms around Merry's shoulders.

"Berilac," Merry cried. "Why did they kill Berilac?"

"It's all right, Merry," Pippin said. His steady words were lost in the tears in his eyes. "It'll be all right." Merry howled again, his fingers twisting in Pippin's shirt. Frodo ran soothing hands down Merry's back. He'd known Berilac as well as both Merry and Pippin had. He had been Merry's first cousin and their fourth trouble-maker when they needed one.

"Mr. Frodo?" a voice called from the front door.

"In here, Sam," Frodo answered. Sam stepped out from around the corner. His hair was still mussed from sleep and his suspenders hung down from his pants. His mouth was set in a straight line. He nodded once to Frodo.

"Da sent me," he said. "Told me to take Merry and Pippin down to the docks. You'll be wanting to go home now. See your family and the likes." Pippin nodded then turned his attention toward helping Merry to his feet. Frodo helped support the sobbing Hobbit out of his _smial_ and toward the cart Sam had brought around. Sam trailed after them, boarding the hover-bike while Frodo hefted Merry into the cart.

"Happy birthday, Frodo," Pippin told him. "We'll come down to the docks later tonight, yeah?"

"Take care of Merry first," Frodo said. "Call me when you get home." Pippin promised he would and Sam set out on the hover-bike.

Frodo watched his friends disappear down the road with a heavy heart. The Autumn Fair would be today, as the bombing had delayed it. No one would be laughing, though. There would be a somber feel for everyone who had lost loved ones.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I hope you are enjoying your flight. As flight attendant of _the Arkenstone_, I will remind all readers that this is not our first flight. If you were not aware of this then please turn back and read _There and Back Again: Into Space_. Turbulence are no longer expected. Feel free to wander the cabins and send all messages to the pilots below._


	4. Fairground Fun

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good morning!_

_I hope you are well rested for the journey ahead. If you find any problems with the bunk you have been assigned, feel free to take it up with any of the captains. Thorin, Gandalf, and Bilbo are always willing to help you. Sadly, Eomer and Faramir will not be joining us for a good long time. They both have duties to uphold to king and country. But they will be joining us and you may take up any issues you have with them during that part of the journey. Sit back and enjoy the flight._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Fairground Fun<strong>

Once Sam had disappeared around the bend with Merry and Pippin, Frodo retreated to the kitchen. The starlight streaming through the windows no longer warmed his chilling skin. The bird song sounded more remorse than anything else. Even the oldies still playing on the radio made Frodo's heart ache.

Moving slowly across the flour-covered floor, Frodo tapped a button on the screen. _Brown Eyed Girl_ cut off in mid-line. A hollow silence rang through the kitchen. An uncomfortable tightness wrapped around Frodo's chest and a sob worked its way from his throat. He sank to the floor, his forehead pressed against the wall. Berilac's laughing cherub face stood clearly in his mind's eye. He could still remember every time he, Merry, and Pippin had gotten Berilac in trouble at some point. Merry's cousin had never taken it hard. He'd always laughed it off then gotten his revenge on them sometime later. Frodo sobbed into his arms. He knew his tears would stain his shirt and clump the flour the flour on the ground. But he didn't care. All that mattered right now was Berilac.

"Oh, Sweetie," a soft voice said. Warm hands rubbed circles against his back. "You should have come to us." Frodo leaned his head back. Through his tears he could see Bell Goodchild smiling sadly down at him.

"Berilac," was all he managed to choke out.

"I know, Sweetie," Bell said. Kneeling down on the floor, she wrapped her arms around Frodo's shoulder. Frodo leaned into the embrace. "I'm so sorry for your loss." She nuzzled her cheek against Frodo's hair. Frodo sniffled, aware of the wheezing in his breath. "Tell you what, why don't you relax in the study while I clean up the kitchen. I'll make you some tea if you want and then we can talk."

With no reason to argue, Frodo allowed himself to be picked up from the floor and dusted off. Bell saw him down the hall to Bilbo's old study. The books were right where the deceased Hobbit had left them. The furniture, rescued by Gandalf from the auction, still stood in their same position. The old oak desk overlooked the garden through the wide window.

"Now, you just rest here," Bell said, settling Frodo down in an armchair beside the cold fireplace. "I'll go clean up the kitchen and make us some tea. Do you have your inhaler? Good. Now just relax." She smoothed down Frodo's shirt and patted him on the shoulder before leaving for the kitchen. The study's door slid shut after her with a hiss.

Frodo rolled the inhaler through his fingers. He hated the dratted thing. It had kept him from playing with the other children all his childhood until he had been moved to Brandy Hall. His grandfather had been the first Hobbit who hadn't overreacted about his condition. By no means had he cast the problem aside, but he had cast it in a light that made Frodo feel better about himself. All his cousins had been taught the symptoms of an attack and were sternly quizzed on them before they were allowed to play. Not once in Brandy Hall had Frodo ever had a problem playing with the other children or having a severe attack. For the first time he'd enjoyed himself.

Frodo's eyes flicked to the floorboards at his feet. For a moment he sat still in the chair, listening for the sound of Bell moving through the kitchen. Her singing carried down the hall and through the door. Setting the inhaler on the coffee table, Frodo slid from his chair and knelt on the floor. He pulled up the floorboards with ease. Nestled in the niche were two items: a small chest filled with gold and jewels, and a small, velvet ring box. Frodo reached into the niche and wrapped his fingers around the ring box, drawing his hand back out. The floorboards snapped back in place. Sitting back on his heels, Frodo opened the clam box. Bilbo's plain gold ring rested in between the cushions.

"Frodo dear," Bell called. Grabbing the ring from the box, Frodo shoved it in his waistcoat pocket. He quickly returned to his chair, shoving the ring box between the cushion of the chair. The study door hissed open to allow Bell in. She held a tea tray in her hands. "How are you feeling, dear?" Frodo shrugged. His heart ached for Berilac. He wanted to be back in Brandy Hall with his cousins. "Are you up to going to the Fair today?"

"I might stay home," Frodo sighed. "I don't want to see anyone today."

"No, I think you better go," Bell said. She settled the tray on the study desk and began pouring them both cups of tea. "Being around people will help you feel better. Besides, it's your birthday."

"All the more reason," Frodo muttered under his breath. Bell smiled at him as she handed him the cup of tea. Frodo accepted the teacup, blowing on the hot beverage before taking a sip.

"I'm sorry this happened on your birthday. I know how much you were looking forward to today. Tell you what, come to the Fair with us. Sam can keep you company." Frodo refrained from pointing out he went with Sam's family every year. The Gamgees had been the one to adopt him into their family when he'd moved into Bag-End. Bell had been there with motherly comfort for every problem that arose. The Gaffer gave advice where it was welcome and, sometimes, where it wasn't.

"The fresh air will be good for you," Bell said. Frodo didn't answer as he took another sip of tea. His chest still felt tight but the wheezing in his breathing had subsided. Bell sighed and looked around the study, her own teacup steaming in her hand. "I remember when Bilbo used to live here." Frodo's head snapped up.

"You knew Bilbo?" he asked excitedly. Bell sent him a sideways look but smiled.

"I was only fifteen when he left on his journey with Gandalf, but I knew him fairly well. He had an affinity to children. He seemed to find less fault in them than adults. It was like he trusted in us more, didn't think we could do anything wrong."

"Merry said he was a hermit."

"He, did he?" Bell asked, her eyes narrowing. "No, Bilbo wasn't necessarily a hermit. It's true, he did spend quite a bit of time cooped up here with his books and garden. But he continued to visit his relatives on the Westfarthing moon. Gandalf kept a close eye on him too."

"Speaking of Gandalf, is he going to be at the fair today?" Bell hesitated with the question. Settling the teacup on the desk, she turned to Frodo with her hands clasped before her.

"Gandalf hasn't been around here for many months," she said. "I have seen him for seventeen years." Frodo frowned. He had to disagree with that. Gandalf had come to visit him several times in the last seventeen years. True, he always seemed harried about something or another, hurrying and hurrying out. The last time he'd seen Gandalf, the Wizard had said he needed to visit the head of his order, Saruman.

"But we can always hope," Bell said. Frodo nodded and took a sip of his tea. They fell into an easy conversation as the birds continued to sing outside. Slowly, the aching in Frodo's heart left and Berilac's death no longer seemed so horrifying. His cousin was in a better place now. Eru would look after him. Bell had that effect on people.

"Mam," a voice called. Bell stood from her seat on the ottoman. Frodo straightened up in his seat.

"In the study, dear," Bell called down the hall. Footsteps pattered their way and the door hissed open. Daisy Gamgee poked her head into the room. Her honey-blonde curls had been pulled back with ribbons.

"Da says we're all ready to go to the Fair," Daisy said. She blanked innocently at Frodo. "He wants to know if Frodo's coming with us."

"Yes, he is," Bell said before Frodo could argue. "Run and tell your Da he can go ahead of us. We'll meet him down there." Daisy nodded and disappeared from the study, her footsteps fading away. Bell rounded on Frodo, her hands planted on her hips. "Now, go get ready for the Fair and no arguing with me." Frodo hid his smile behind one last sip of tea before setting it aside and pushing himself out of the chair.

Frodo hurried to change from the flour-dusted clothes. He chose a cream collared shirt and red waist-coast. He had just finished buttoning up the waistcoat when his alarm clock dinged with a message. Annoyance buzzing in the back of his mind, he brushed his fingers against the alarm clock. The blue holographic screen flickered to life, white words shining against the background.

_Frodo,_

_I'm sorry for your loss, but you can't stay in the Shire System. Get out! They're nearly there!_

_B.B._

Dismissing the message with a flick of his fingers, Frodo hurried from his room. Bell was waiting for him the front hall. She handed him his inhaler then escorted him from the _smial_. Together, they made their way down the path toward the Fair under the party tree. They carried on a light conversation, laughing about things Berilac had done in his youth as was the way of Hobbits. The mourning of Hobbits lasted a rather short time before they began to laugh and drink in honor of their family and friends. The Brandybucks had most likely already begun to plan a party in Berilac's honor.

Sam met his mother and friend at the entrance of the Fair. Frodo accepted his hug, assured his friend he had in inhaler, and then made his way into the bustling crowds. Several Hobbits stopped him to wish him a happy birthday. Frodo shook his hands so many times and thanks so many people his hand was going numb. His head reeled with the many faces who swarmed before him. Even the Sackville-Bagginses stopped him to console him for his loss. Frodo accepted it readily enough, brushing aside their snide remarks about Bilbo's vanishing act at his age.

Frodo and Sam visited several stalls around the Autumn Fair. Children ran back and forth playing various games and squealing in delight. Golden and red streamers hung from the branches of the Party Tree. Lanterns floated around the crown of branches, waiting to light up for the evening.

By the afternoon, Frodo was exhausted with the amount of birthday greetings and conversations he'd been in. He retreated around the Party Tree with a mug of ale in hand. He had only been sitting on the roots for a few minutes when someone wandered around the Tree, a mug in their own hands. It wasn't a Hobbit Frodo recognized. He was slightly taller than the average Hobbit with honeyed curls and bright green eyes. A long, brown coat swirled around his ankles.

"Grand Fair, isn't it?" the Hobbit said conversationally. Frodo hummed in agreement, drinking from his mug. An awkward silence fell between them. The new Hobbit rocked back and forth on his heels before brightening up. "Right, I didn't introduce myself." He thrust his hand out in greeting. "Martin Freeman."

"Frodo Baggins," Frodo said slowly, shaking the hand. Martin settled himself on a root beside him. "I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"Right you are," Martin said with a chortle. Frodo glanced sideways at this strange Hobbit. He could see a strange scar curling around Martin's ear. A small, silver device blinked in his pointed ear. Martin's eyes held a worn, lost look concealed poorly by a jovial smile.

"Where are you from?" Frodo asked.

"Oh, a small moon in the Belt," Martin said dismissively. "Thought I'd come out here for a bit." Frodo shifted uncomfortably on the seat. This Hobbit gave off an aura many Hobbits didn't like. It was jumpy and serious, as though he had a plan but was nervous something would go wrong. "I hear it's your birthday today," Martin commented, snapping Frodo from his thoughts. Frodo nodded slowly. "How old?"

"Fifty."

"Fifty, great age," Martin laughed. He lifted in mug in salute. "Cheers." Frodo watched the Hobbit take a swig from his mug. A golden ring encrusted with a sapphire winked on Martin's left hand. "I heard about your loss," Martin said. Frodo shook his head to clear his thoughts, trying to keep his attention on his guest. "I'm sorry. Berilac was a good Hobbit."

"I know," was all Frodo could think of saying.

"But, you know, he's in a better place. He's happy where he is." Frodo nodded in agreement. Martin smiled sadly at him. Setting his mug on the ground, the Hobbit patted Frodo on the shoulder. "I meant what he said," Martin told him as he stood. "Get out of the Shire System. It's not safe." Frodo's head snapped up but the Hobbit was already gone, the hem of his brown coat flicking around the tree. Scrambling to his feet, Frodo hurried after him. The bustling crowds of the Fair was all he saw. Martin had vanished.

"Mr. Frodo," Sam called from his father's side. "Cakes!" Irked with the idea of Martin's disappearance, Frodo made his way toward his friend.

The thought of Martin fled from Frodo's mind as the day went on. He drank and ate with the Gamgees, laughing at Daisy's party tricks. He received both birthday wishes and consolations, accepting each one with a salute of his mug. Food was passed around and eaten almost instantly by the many Hobbits at the Fair. The fireworks started when the mass of stars had set beyond the horizon. The lanterns around the Party Tree lit up. Someone struck up a band and the Fairgoers began dancing. At one point Frodo even convinced Sam to dance with Rosie Cotton. Seeing his friend skipping nervously around with his sweetheart made Frodo laugh. He forgot the worries of the day as he stood there clapping beside the rest of the Hobbits.

Sam and Frodo left the fair late in evening when the lanterns had begun to die. The rest of the Gamgees had already gone home after the first few dances. The two made their way up the beaten path toward Bagshot Row. They laughed together and stumbled around, reminiscing about the enjoyment of the Fair. Despite being put off for a day, it was certainly just as fun as Frodo had thought it would be. And there had been on problems with his asthma this time.

It happened just as they were rounding the corner toward Sam's house in number three. The Gaffer's voice carried around the bend. Frodo froze in this steps, his heart chilling his in his chest.

"Frodo Baggins? He lives just up in Bag-End. What are you after him for? Are you a friend?" A hissing voice answered. Grabbing Sam's arm, Frodo dragged his friend into the bushes. They crouched there, listening to the conversation. "No, Frodo's not home right now. He's down at the Fair. Should I tell him you came by? Wait, where are you going? Well . . . good riddance!"

A black figure ghosted around the corner. Frodo clapped a hand over his mouth to cover his gasp. It was taller than Man wearing a long black cloak. Beneath the heavy cloak he could hear a strange clanking and whirring sound. Pinpricks of light shone under the long hood of the cloak.

"Mr. Frodo," Sam breathed. Frodo grabbed his arm just as the figure stopped beside them. It turned on the spot, as though searching for something.

"Daisy!" the Gaffer shouted. "Run down to the Fair and find Sam and Frodo. Tell them to come home." The dark figure snapped upright and hurried on its way, moving like a ghost. Sam and Frodo watched it go. Moments later, Sam's older sister pattered by down toward the Fair.

"Mr. Frodo, who was that?" Sam asked in a hushed voice. "What did they want?" Frodo swallowed against the lump in his throat. The messages were clear now. Whoever the figure in black had been, he was no friend of Frodo's.

"I have to get out of the Shire System," he told Sam. "I need to get to Bree."

"Bree?" Sam repeated. "Why?"

"Gandalf is waiting for me. Sam, I need you to come with me. It's just to Bree and back," Frodo said urgently. His friend stared at him for a moment before nodding.

"You don't seem right in the head, Mr. Frodo," he said slowly. "But I don't like the look of that black figure. I'll go with you." Frodo smiled in relief. He had the feeling Sam wasn't going so much to protect him from the black figure but to make sure he stayed safe.

"Meet me at the docks," Frodo said, standing from the bushes and brushing himself off. "I need to grab a few things."

"Why the docks?" Sam stood and wormed his way out of the bushes. He followed Frodo down the path toward Bag-End.

"Merry and Pippin will be waiting there. Grab any unperishable food you can."

"All right, but be quick, Mr. Frodo. The Shirriffs won't let us out past ten."

Frodo assured his friend he would be quick then raced past the doors of Bagshot Row and up to Bag-End. The door swung open at his insistence. Racing around the _smial_, he grabbed _Sting_ from its place on the mantel and dug the mithril shirt out from a chest of drawers. He stuffed every non-perishable food item into a backpack along with another set of clothes and several packages of medicine. Already he could feel his chest constricting. He paused for a moment to inhale a dose of medicine. Now was not a good time to have an asthma attack. It would only slow him down. He strapped _Sting_ to his waist then made his way out the front door.

The door had just finished locking when a sharp wail pierced the air. It masked the sounds of chirping crickets and rustling air. Frodo whirled around, his eyes searching the skies. The lights of Bagshot Row flicked on. They lit up the path, casting an eerie glow around Frodo. The wailing continued. Doors slammed open. Hobbits streamed from their _smials_, shouting in fear. And still Frodo watched the sky.

There! The stars in the sky were warped, as though looking through a bubble. Slowly, ships of many different shapes and sizes dropped their cloaking devices and flickered into view. Some were long and narrow like bullets while others were shaped more like stones. Floodlights streamed down from their bottoms. The air of the engines sent gusts of wind to blow against trees. Several Hobbits fell the ground screaming in the gusts.

Frodo stumbled backward in surprise. Dwarves! They'd never made it this far into the System before. They'd always raided Buckland and the Eastfarthing but never Hobbiton. And they had never been known to strike twice one night. Frodo turned his gaze down to the lower path. Sam stood down there staring up at him. He nodded when he caught Frodo's eye. They both turned, packs beating against their backs, and began to shove their way past Hobbits running in the opposite direction. They should have been making their way to the bomb shelter with the rest of the Hobbits, but that wasn't part of Frodo's plan.

Fresh screams rent the air. Frodo whirled around to see Dwarves lowering themselves with the use of jetpacks. A Hobbit collided with Frodo's shoulder, sending Frodo sprawling to the path. He sputtered and tried to push himself upright against the crowds. Something landed with a hard thump directly before him. Frodo froze. Hobbits scattered with fresh screams. The new figure straightened up. The wings of his jetpack slipped back into the case.

Frodo had only ever seen Dwarves in pictures before. Seeing one in real life was nothing like sitting in history class as the teacher droned on. This Dwarf had the natural stocky build and carried himself with a down-to-earth feeling. The hilts of two swords peeked over his shoulders. The gusts from the engines blew up his lion-like mane of blond hair. Twin braids of his mustache whipped back and forth, beating a rhythm in the air. He stared at Frodo with piercing blue eyes.

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Our flight may have had a rather rocky take-off, but the pilots have managed to straighten us out and have gotten back on route. It should be a straight flight here on out._


	5. Docks Distress

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N:_ Good evening!_

_All passengers are asked to please refrain from annoying Captain Oakenshield with repetitive and/or annoying questions. It has resulted in the spacing of many passengers on previous flights. Thank you._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Docks Distress<strong>

Frodo couldn't move. The Dwarf kept him pinned to the ground with his piercing blue gaze. The wind continued to whip around them, tossing the back of the Dwarf's jacket into the air. The engines of the ships screamed high above as several turned tail and left. Lights shone in Frodo's eyes. He blinked, trying to clear the tears away while keeping his gaze on the Dwarf at the same time. He seemed to be contemplating something.

Someone shouted behind Frodo. The Dwarf's eyes snapped upward in the direction of the call. They widened and he leapt over Frodo.

"Martin, itdin!" the Dwarf shouted as he disappeared around the bend. "Ingit! Ingit!"

Frodo remained laying on the ground, blinking in surprise. The Dwarf had completely bypassed him. All around him Dwarves were snatching Hobbits and ejecting their jetpack wings to return to their ships. A few returned from the bellies of their ships to snatch more. Fordo thought he spotted Fatty Bolger howling in the arms of one particular Dwarf.

"Mr. Frodo!" Hands wrapped themselves in Frodo's shirt and jerked him to his feet. Frodo blinked dizzily, trying to snap himself back into reality. Sam stood before him, a look of sheer terror in his eyes. "Come on, Mr. Frodo. We've got to go before the shirriffs send us down to the bomb shelter."

"He's after Martin," Frodo said, in a daze. A slap across the face from Sam snapped him back to the present. "Sam, we've got to go."

"That's right. We've got to go before the shirriffs find us. Or the Dwarves." Sam's eyes flicked upward to the ships. Several had started to flee the planet, leaving the sky bare but for the stars once more. "Come on, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo followed Sam's lead, running down the road from Bag-End. The streams of screaming Hobbits had started to dwindle as more and more vanished into the bomb shelter below ground. The two Hobbits easily made their way through the center of town and toward the docks. Rounding the bend in the road, Frodo's heart leapt at the familiar wooden planks. Many of the ships had automatically locked their doors and doused their lights in the air raid. Only one ship remained open at the very end of the dock. Two lone figures stood beside it, waving their arms as if in warning.

"It's Merry and Pippin," Sam said unnecessarily. Frodo breathed a sigh of relief. His friends had come, just as they had said they would.

The shorter figure – Pippin, presumably – waved his arm wildly. Frodo barely heard his name called before something collided hard with him. It sent him tumbling into Sam who tripped forward, rolling across the dock. Frodo rolled to a stop, a heavy weight on his stomach. A Dwarf sat perched on his stomach, pinning Frodo's wrists down with his hands. They sat like that for only a second or so before Frodo's fear kicked in.

"Get off!" he screamed shrilly, struggling. The Dwarf grunted and kept his grip as Frodo tossed him this way and that.

"I'khiz!" the Dwarf snapped, forcing Frodo's arms back down to the ground. Inhaling deeply, Frodo screamed at the top of his lungs. "I'khiz arkhâshu! Has me! Has me!" The Khuzdul words fell on deaf ears as Frodo continued to scream.

"Frodo!" Merry shouted from down the dock.

"Get off him," Sam roared. He leapt at the Dwarf, wrapping his arms around the attacker's neck. The Dwarf threw his back and caught Sam by surprise, striking him in the face. Sam stumbled backward with his hands over his nose.

"Oi, Aidan!" The Dwarf released Frodo's wrists at the new voice. He stood upright, stumbling away from Frodo. The Hobbit had barely a moment to regain his senses before something crackled through the air. The Dwarf before him squealed, collapsing to the ground spasming. Propping himself up on his elbows, Frodo stared as the Dwarf fell still. His head whipped toward the other end of the dock.

Martin stood between two ships. The night winds blew his long coat backward, making him look like a bird in flight. His right hand remained raised in the air. Something silver glinted in his fingers. Frodo swallowed hard at the sight. Earlier Martin had looked like any other Hobbit: innocent and incapable of causing harm on someone. This one single moment proved him wrong.

Slowly, as though worried the Dwarf would wake up, Martin lowered his arm. He stowed the instrument – a Taser gun, Frodo thought – and made his way down the dock. Frodo hurriedly scrambled to his feet, moving to stand beside the moaning Sam.

"Frodo," Merry panted, racing toward them with Pippin hot on his heels. "Are you all right?"

"I tried to warn you," Pippin said.

"I-I'm fine," Frodo gasped out.

"Deep breaths, Frodo," Merry said. Frodo nodded, massaging his chest. "Try and relax."

"Just unconscious," Martin piped up. The three standing Hobbits turned to see him bent over the Dwarf. The terror of the fight over, Frodo could see him clearly. He was smaller than the blond Dwarf had been. His dark hair remained unbraided and lank around his face. A quiver of arrows had been strapped around his chest, the bow looped beside it.

"You know him?" Merry asked. Martin stood, clapping his hands on his pants.

"He's been hunting me," the Hobbit said evasively. "He's name's Aidan. He's working with other Dwarves."

"I-I saw another Dwarf," Frodo said. Martin turned curious eyes on him. "He was b-blond."

"Probably Dean," Martin said, his eyes narrowing in thought. "They're brothers. That means their uncle is somewhere nearby."

"Why are you running from them?" Pippin asked curiously.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Martin said.

"Yes, and satisfaction brought it back." Martin grinned at the retort. "Wait a minute. I know you!" The smile dropped. "You're . . . no! You can't be!"

"Who is he?" Sam asked as he stood. He inspected his hand carefully before turning his full attentions on Frodo. "Are you all right, Mr. Frodo? He didn't hurt you, did he?" Frodo shook his head but winced at the wheezing in his breath. "Do you have your inhaler with you?"

"Asthma?" Martin said. Frodo nodded again. "I picked a cousin with asthma? Great."

"There's nothing wrong with asthma," Sam retorted. "He's no different than you or me."

"No, he's not," Martin agreed, raising his hands peaceably.

"Who are you, anyway?"

"Martin Freeman," Martin said at the same time Pippin said, "Bilbo Baggins!"

An awkward silence fell in the group. Martin shifted uneasily under the scrutiny of the younger Hobbits. Merry jabbed Pippin in the ribs with his elbow.

"He can't be Bilbo," the Brandybuck said. "Bilbo's one hundred and twenty-six."

"Twenty-eight," Martin sighed, then winced.

"Ah-ha!" Pippin exclaimed. Martin smiled at him sheepishly. "I knew it! You're Bilbo Baggins." Frodo stared at the older Hobbit in shock. That was impossible. Martin didn't look a year over fifty.

"Bilbo?" Sam repeated. "B-But . . . you died."

"According to every Hobbit in the Shire System, yes," Martin/Bilbo said. "No one ever said I was alive or dead. Everyone just assumed it."

"You sent me a box," Frodo said in a daze. "When I turned thirty-three."

"I did," Martin/Bilbo agreed. "That's where all this trouble started, but I think that's a story for another time. You need to get to Bree."

"Why are you sending him to Bree?" Sam demanded. "Why not go there yourself?"

"They can't see me. Butterbur would tell them."

"Tell who?"

"Richard."

"Who's Richard?" Merry asked curiously.

"His uncle," Martin/Bilbo said, jerking his thumb back toward the unconscious Aidan. "And the captain of the crew."

"The crew who's hunting you?" Merry clarified, and Martin/Bilbo nodded. "Why are they hunting you?"

"Long story, I'll tell you some other time. For now, you all need to get out of here. Take the back way out of the System through the Old Forest."

"The Old Forest?" Merry choked. "That asteroid belt is impossible to navigate."

"And you've done it plenty of times in your life. You'll be fine."

"I still don't get why we're going to Bree," Sam said. Martin/Bilbo turned serious eyes on him.

"You saw that black rider talking to your Gaffer?" Sam nodded. "He's trying to get the ring. I can't tell you about it right now, but he will kill you if he finds you. Gandalf can keep you safe. He'll meet you in Bree at the Prancing Pony. If he's not there then ask for Strider."

"Strider?" Frodo repeated, earning himself a nod.

"And why should we trust this Strider?" Sam demanded. "We don't even know him."

"I've known him since he was a small boy living on Rivendell. He'll get you there safely. But don't just trust anyone who calls themselves "Strider". You need to know it's him."

"How are we going to know?" Pippin asked.

"Recite the first of half of this poem to you and he'll tell you the rest:

"_All that is gold does not glitter,_

_Not all those who wander are lost,_

_The old that is strong doesn't wither,_

_Deep roots are not reached by the frost._

_From the ashes a fire shall be woken,_

_A light from the shadow shall spring,_

_Renewed shall be blade that was broken,_

_The crownless again shall be king."_

Sam whistled low. "That's a long poem."

"You'll remember it," Martin/Bilbo said assuredly. "At least one of you will. Strider will know to help you when he hears it."

"Why?" Frodo asked.

"Because I wrote it," Martin/Bilbo said proudly. "It's about him, actually . . . you'll understand that more when you get to know him." A shout carried down from the hill above. Martin/Bilbo whirled around to glare in that direction.

"Dammit, they've found me. It's Jed and Jimmy." Whirling around, he dug in his pockets. He dumped a flat, silver arrowhead in Merry's hand. "Place that on the console of your ship. It'll mask you from the Dwarves' radar." The other hand withdrew from his pocket filled with small, blinking silver ear buds. He urged each of the younger Hobbits to take one. "They're translators. It'll make your life easier in Bree." Pressing the translator into his ear, Frodo was surprised when it conformed to the shape of his canal.

"Martin!" one of the Dwarves coming down the hill shouted. Martin/Bilbo swore colorfully and reached behind himself under his coat. Something whirred to life. Metallic wings ejected from slits in his jacket. "Martin, itdin! Itdin!"

"Get to the ship, don't let anyone stop you." Martin turned to leave before a thought came to him. His legs bent, he spoke quickly. "And if you run into trouble in the Shire System, just say this:

"_Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!_

_By water and hill, by the reed and willow,_

_By fire, sun, and moon, harken now and hear us,_

_Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!"_

"Who's Tom Bombadil?" Merry asked. Pippin wrinkled in nose in distaste.

"A strange fellow," Martin/Bilbo said. "But he owes me one. He'll help you if you get into trouble. Remember: don't trust strangers, don't tell anyone else about the ring, and don't use your real names. Make ones up for yourselves." And with that, he kicked off the ground. The jetpack – as only it could be – caught him before he hit the docks and he rocketed toward the oncoming Dwarves. They ducked to avoid his flailing arms.

"Go!" Frodo shouted. Merry and Pippin heeded his order, spinning on their heels and tearing toward their ship. Sam and Frodo followed quickly. The Dwarves continued to shout in Khuzdul behind them, their words indecipherable. Frodo turned once he had reached the ship to see Martin/Bilbo disappearing into the sky. Jed and Jimmy stood below him, their arms raised as they shouted.

"Frodo, get in!" Merry shouted. Frodo turned back around and hurried into the shuttle. Merry pulled the door shut behind him, latching it. "Pip, fire it up!"

"Aye, aye, captain," Pippin said, leaping behind a divider. A peek after him showed Frodo there was an engine back there. Pippin skipped back and forth easily, pulling levers and pushing buttons. The engine came to life in her cradle.

"Hold on, everyone," Merry said. Pulling back from the engine room, Frodo spotted his friend sitting in the pilot's chair. The silver arrowhead had been tossed lazily onto the console. It sat there humming, a blue glow immersing it entirely. Frodo grabbed onto a nearby bar.

Merry flipped a few switches and twisted a knob. The shuttle's wings expanded. It drew away from the docks without a single hitch, soaring off into the black. Several Dwarven ships passed over them. In his heart, Frodo knew there were now several Hobbits trapped in there. Merry bypassed each of the ships, making his way to the other side of the planet.

"I'll set a course for the Old Forest belt," Merry said, more to himself than anyone else. "Hopefully we can pass the Barrow Downs without a hitch."

"The Barrow Downs?" Sam repeated hoarsely. "We're not going near the Barrow Downs, are we?"

"No choice. Orbit has it right on the border of the asteroid bet. The planet's quiet most of the time, though. We shouldn't have any trouble." Frodo swallowed hard. He hoped Merry was right.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_We aboard _the Arkenstone _would like to remind you to lock your bunk doors at night. This is not Hobbiton and a few of our more permanent passengers are known to wander into rooms when they're drunk and spend the night there. This rule has been set in place to avoid any screaming fits in the morning that will wake the entire ship and lawsuits . . . not that many ever occur. We would also like to warn you about a rather . . . interesting guest joining us soon. He pops in from time and time, and enjoys spending his time with the children. Again, thank you for flying on _the Arkenstone_ and sleep tight. We shall see you again in the morning._


	6. Shuttle Explanations

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good morning!_

_Having the day off today and tomorrow, I will update as much as I can! I will remind everyone that I tend to write my stories from both the movies and books. I did that with _There and Back Again: Into Space_ and look how that turned out!_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Shuttle Explanations<strong>

While Merry steered the shuttle out of Hobbiton airspace, Frodo took the time to look around. It would have been a small shuttle by any other standards. For a Hobbit, though, it was comfortable. All four of them could easily find space to recline and there would still be room. It was shaped like a pod, the floor wider than the sloping ceiling, and had only two rooms: the engine room and the main area. Half of the main area was taken up by the console which had curled with the round front. Frodo frowned as he examined a strange marking beside the oval latch.

"This isn't a Hobbit ship," he said. Sam looked up from examining their packs. He had a pack of food in one hand and several packages of Frodo's medicine in the other.

"What do you mean, Mr. Frodo?" his friend and gardener asked.

"This shuttle," Frodo said, motioning to the walls around him. "It isn't a Hobbit design."

"Right you are," Merry piped up from his seat at the helm. He didn't take his eyes off the space around them. His fingers remained wrapped around the controls. "It's Khazad."

"Khazad!" Sam yelped, leaping to his feet. The packs sat forgotten at his feet. "What are we doing in a Dwarf shuttle? How'd you get a hold of it?"

"We didn't steal it, if that's what you're thinking," Merry said.

"We found it," Pippin called from the engine room. Sam looked dubiously between the friends, but Frodo laughed.

"How did you two manage to find a Dwarf shuttle in the Shire System?"

"Easy," Merry said. "We found it about ten years ago. It'd sunk into a bog. Been there for some time."

"So we dragged it out of the bog, yeah," Pippin said as he came around the divider. "And fixed her up. There was a small problem with the engine starting up, but I fixed it."

"And now she purrs like a kitten," Merry said proudly. "We've been flying her around the Shire System for . . . seven years now, I think."

"And apparently out of the System, too," Frodo said. Merry sent him a mischievous grin. "Don't think I didn't hear what Martin said. 'You've done it plenty of times in your life.' You've been out of the System before." Merry didn't even bother to deny it.

"I have. And I took Pip with me. We mainly visit Bree to see old Butterbur and occasionally an Elf."

"Elf?" Sam repeated hopefully.

"Yep, beautiful creature. She's a bit of a trouble maker, though."

"Do you think she'd be there?" Sam asked. Merry grinned at him while Pippin chuckled.

"She might be. It's hard to tell. Sometimes she has to go home and visit her friend." Sam's face fell. Crouching down, he returned to digging through the packs. Frodo couldn't help but send his friend a pitying look. All his life Sam had wanted to see Elves, and his one chance was a one in a million. Not to mention it was the word of a Brandybuck and a Took.

"What's this about a black rider?" Pippin asked suddenly. Frodo turned his attention back to the tween. "Bilbo said something about it, yeah?" Merry looked over his shoulder from the helm, curiosity in his own eyes.

"Sam and I were heading back from the fair," Frodo explained. "We were near his house when we heard the Gaffer talking to someone. They were asking where I was."

"Did you see who it was?" Merry asked, and Frodo shook his head.

"He was dressed all in black. I couldn't see anything under his hood except two little lights."

"He made a sort of mechanical sound," Sam piped up. "I heard whirring and clanking when he walked past us. He gave me this . . . cold feeling. I didn't like him one bit."

"Bilbo did say he's trying to kill Frodo," Pippin pointed out. Merry glared at him and he quailed. "Sorry."

"Now how come you believe that's Bilbo?" Sam demanded, standing once more. "Any Hobbit could say he's Bilbo Baggins. You've never seen him before." Frodo turned to Merry and Pippin, curious for their answer. He'd been wondering that for some time ever since Pippin had accused Martin of being Bilbo. Pippin shifted nervously in his spot.

"Pip says he's Bilbo," was all Merry said.

"And you believe him?" Sam asked.

"Pip knows a lot more than you give him credit for. If he says Martin's really Bilbo, then I'll believe him."

"It could be," Frodo agreed hesitantly. Sam turned to him, a pleading look in his eyes. Clearly he didn't want any of this to be true. "He sent me three messages today and yesterday, telling me to get out of the Shire System."

"What sort of messages?" Merry asked. Frodo recited them for his friends. Sam frowned disapprovingly while Merry bore a thoughtful look. Pippin had cocked his head in curiosity, his lips moving silently with the words.

"Three, seven, nine, and one," Merry said. "Weird how they each have a race."

"Except for that last one," Pippin pointed out. "It only mentions a dark lord."

"Think it means something about the Government?" Merry asked Pippin who shrugged. Sam frowned at the words.

"What government? There's no government in the Shire System."

"It's not _a_ government," Pippin said. "It's the Government of the Free Peoples. Tauriel told us about it."

"Tauriel?" Frodo asked.

"Our Elf friend."

"Now what's this about a Government, then?" Sam demanded. "I want to know what you two are talking about." Merry and Pippin shared looks. A silent conversation seemed to pass between them before Pippin finally shrugged.

"There's more to the universe than you think there is," Merry said slowly, as though wondering how to explain. Moving to the wall, Frodo seated himself on a nearby bench. This was going to be a long story. He could already tell. But Sam bristled at being treated like a child.

"I know that. There's Elves, Men, and Dwarves."

"I'm not talking about that. I mean . . . there's more to our System than you know. Gandalf isn't just some Wizard who brings fireworks for us to watch. He protects our System and keeps us safe."

"What are you talking about?" Frodo asked.

"We don't know the whole story," Pippin said. "Tauriel wouldn't tell us. She said we couldn't know so long as we stayed in the Shire System."

"What did she tell you, then?" Sam demanded. "I'm not liking where this is going."

"Tauriel said we're not native to the Shire System. We used to be three races and lived throughout the universe. But then something happened, she wouldn't tell us what, and we all ended up in the Shire System. Gandalf and the Government of the Free Peoples have been protecting us ever since."

"Protecting us from what?"

"The outsiders," Merry said. "Didn't you see what they were doing? They attack Buckland monthly and kidnap Hobbits. Anyone who flies a ship near the border gets snatched by their ships. I've had cousins who went out flying and never returned."

"Why?" Frodo asked. Merry's face darkened.

"We don't know," he said, turning back to the helm. He propped one foot on the console and rested an arm on his knee. "Probably to sell us on the Black Market."

"But . . . you're always telling us it's air raids," Sam said. Pippin chewed his lip nervously. "How come you're not telling us the truth?"

"The Government doesn't let us," Merry said darkly, as though he resent the decision. "The Brandybuck families have always known a bit about who really controls our System. The higher ups think we need to know about them because we live on the edge of the Shire System. They don't do much to stop the raids, though." He kicked the console angrily. Frodo could tell his friend was still bitter about Berilac. Pippin slowly moved across the shuttle to lay a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder.

"They try to help," the tween said. "They send in ships to fire at the Dwarves who come in."

"They come too late most of the time," Merry growled. "If they took more precautions then there'd be more Hobbits safe and sound at home. You saw how Bilbo was running from those Dwarves. They probably caught him a while back."

"You think he escaped?" Frodo asked with a raised eyebrow. Merry shrugged but Pippin looked thoughtful.

"It'd make sense," Pippin said. "Bilbo was in a hurry to get away from those Dwarves. Maybe they've already sold him and they need him back to make the deal."

"We could ask him next time we see him," Sam pointed out.

"Who knows when that'll be," Merry said. Dropping his leg from the console, he stood and stretched his spine. "All right, Frodo, what's this about a ring? Bilbo said he sent it a while back." Frodo's hand drifted toward the pocket of his waistcoat. Merry's eyes flicked down to it.

"Thirty-three years ago I inherited Bag-End," Frodo said slowly, wondering how to explain it. "There was a box waiting for me when I arrived. It was from Mar-Bilbo. He gave me a mithril shirt, a sword, and ring." Merry whistled in surprise.

"Why'd he send you those?" Pippin asked in confusion.

"He wanted me to keep them safe for him," Frodo told him. "I think he was in a hurry when he was writing the letter. He said: _I won't be able to stay long. They might find me._"

"Who's 'they'?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Probably the Dwarves." Merry seated himself on a bench across from Frodo. "That'd mean he's been running from them for seventeen years."

"Poor Bilbo," Pippin sighed.

"Did he say anything else about the ring?" Merry asked.

"He told me to never wear it in public."

"Bilbo didn't really seem to like that ring," Pippin said nervously. "It made . . . I don't know, aggravated. Like he was mad about it."

"Why'd he be mad about a ring?" Sam asked. "It's just a ring, isn't it?"

"Do you have it with you, Frodo?" Merry asked, and Frodo nodded. "Can we see it?" Reaching into his waistcoat pocket, Frodo grabbed the ring with two fingers. Merry, Pippin, and Sam leaned forward curiously as he opened his hand. Sam frowned, his lips pursed when he saw the simple golden band. Pippin averted his eyes and leaned away from the ring. Only Merry remained bent over Frodo's open hand.

"It doesn't look like much," Merry commented. "Just a ring. Is it supposed to do something?" Frodo shrugged. He'd never given it much thought after he'd tucked it away under the floorboards. "Put it on," Merry urged.

"Don't!" Pippin's shout caused Sam and Frodo to jump in surprise. All three Hobbits turned to face him. Pippin's face was screwed up in a mask of pain.

"Migraines?" Merry asked after a moment. Pippin nodded, massing a temple with his fingers. "Sorry, Pip. Why don't you go rest in the engine room?" The tween didn't answer as he made his way back behind the divider.

"Why not put that away, Mr. Frodo?" Sam suggested. "I don't like the feel of it." Frodo obliged, shoving the ring back into his pocket. It felt heavy as it sat its cloth prison.

"Where are we, Merry?" Frodo asked. Merry turned to consult the instruments on the console.

"We'll reach the Barrow Downs in about a half hour. After that it's about a ten minute flight to the border and a few more days to Bree."

"About how many days?" Sam asked. "Don't you have a number?"

"Four days." Merry shrugged. "Give or take a few hours. Pip and I can make it in three if we run the engine hot enough."

"Gandalf will wait for us," Frodo said, more to himself than to the others. "Bilbo will tell him we're coming and he'll wait."

"I hope you're right, Mr. Frodo."

They passed the time relaxing around the shuttle. Merry, Sam, and Frodo cracked open one of the crackers boxes for a snack part way through the trip. Merry disappeared into the engine room with a handful. He didn't return, leaving Sam and Frodo on their own. Sam laid himself out on one of the benches, prepared to take a nap. Unable to relax, Frodo found himself wandering toward the console. Khuzdul runes flitted across screens. Radar beeped and instruments spewed out numbers. A button beside the joystick glowed red. Frodo supposed this was the autopilot, as the controls had been left in their cradle.

Frodo had just began to turn away from the console when he saw it. Leaning forward, he peered out of the windshield. It was the Barrow Downs. He'd heard tales about it before, whispered tales. No one spoke very loudly about the Downs. It was said to be a haunted moon, filled with dark and vengeful spirits. Seeing it up close made Frodo nervous. He could see death plain on the planet's surface. There was no green on it, just a gray and yellow hue. Frodo watched the planet slowly pass them by, never tearing his eyes away from it.

_Scree!_ The screaming wail of an instrument caused Frodo to leap back in surprise. Sam swore colorfully and fell from the bench onto the floor in a heap. Merry bolted out from around the divider. Shoving Frodo aside, he examined a green radar screen.

"What is it?" Frodo asked. Merry didn't answer. "Merry?"

"Someone's coming," Merry croaked. He turned terrified eyes to Frodo. "It's not Dwarves."

"Then what is it?" Sam asked, picking himself up from the floor.

"I can't tell. They're masking their signature."

"What about the thing Bilbo gave us?" Sam said. "Isn't that supposed to hide us?"

"From Dwarves, yes. But these aren't Dwarves. I don't know what they are." Another wail joined the other. Merry turned his attention to this one, his face paling. "They're too close. We wouldn't get away from them before they reached us. There's no time."

"Merry!" Pippin screeched from the engine room. "Wights!" Merry whirled around, his eyes wide with terror. He mouthed the word to himself.

"Wh-What's a Wight?" Sam asked, scared. Frodo tried to swallow the fear in his heart and failed. He'd heard of the Wights from his cousins on Buckland. Berilac in particular had found his enjoyment in terrifying the younger Hobbits, though Frodo was older than him. The Wights were the dark spirits who haunted the Barrow Downs. They devoured the souls of unwary Hobbits.

Merry had opened his mouth to answer when he squealed in pain, clapping a hand to the back of his neck. Frodo and Sam leapt back in surprise as their friend collapsed to the ground unconscious. Behind the divider, Pippin's scream cut off as abruptly as it had started. Sam looked to Frodo. His eyes, Frodo was certain, were a mirror of the sheer terror in his own. Frodo had a moment to form his friend's name on his lips before the pain came. It started at the base of his neck, an electric prickling, and seared through his bones. His hair stood on his end. Every muscle in his body seized up then relaxed, sending him tumbling to the floor. Sam's body fell heavily beside his. Cold hands seemed to wrap themselves around Frodo's arms as his eyes flickered shut.

The Barrow Wights had caught them.

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Give a shout out if you recognize a few things from _There and Back Again: Into Space_! I'm sure some of you hated Tom Bombadil in the book, in part because he really wasn't that important of a character. He just kind of popped into existence and popped out again. He didn't really contribute anything to the story. It won't be that way in my story! Some of you may recognize Tom Bombadil, some of you may not. You can all point your fingers in blame at Castor for his appearance in my story. He initially wasn't even going to._


	7. Barrow Downs Insanity

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good afternoon!_

_Passengers are asked to refrain from trying to start conversations with Tom Bombadil. He is not "all there" and has been known to annoy passengers. Several vases and other valuable items have been broken in attempts to drive him away._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Barrow Downs Insanity<strong>

_Get out of the Shire System . . . beep . . . They're coming for you . . . beep . . . One ring for the dark lord on his dark throne . . . beep . . . beep . . . beep . . ._

Frodo's ears perked at the obnoxious tone somewhere above him. Clothes rustled. Hissing whispers echoed against bare walls. His sharp ears picked up nearly every sound in the room. He could feel them twitching slightly with every new sound. Normally they only did that when the Lobelia or her awful son Lotho were nearby.

Slowly the rest of his senses returned to him. Something cold pressed against his back. It was solid, unforgiving. A scratchy material encircled his wrists and ankles. Inhaling deeply, Frodo steeled himself for what came next and opened his eyes. Above him hovered a series of bulbs. Frodo blinked in confusion. Several seconds past then a bubble of laughter burst past his lips. It was a lamp, a halogen lamp by the looks of it.

"Send word to Government," a hissing voice whispered. Frodo froze, terrified of who spoke, but the voice faded away. A door hissed open and closed and then he was alone.

Frodo made to raise a hand to his aching head – it pounded like he had a hangover – but the scratchy material pinned it down. Looking down, Frodo's heart battered against his ribcage. He had been stripped of his own clothes and dressed in a pair of cream pants. Velcro straps were wrapped around his wrists and ankles, the other ends tied down to metal poles of a steel bed. Sensors had been taped down to his chest, measuring his heart rate.

Head whipping around, Frodo tried to take in the rest of his surroundings. Sam, Merry, and Pippin had been strapped down to similar beds. Their faces were expressions of serene sleep. They didn't know where they were yet. Pristine, tall counters ran along the lengths of the walls. Various medical instruments were scattered around them. Several screens on the walls spat out data, storing them in certain places on unseen desktops. The Barrow Downs.

"Sam," Frodo whispered through a dry throat. His body felt heavy, as though he had exercised too long. Sam didn't move from his peaceful sleep. "Merry! Pippin!" Frodo's voice hitched in terror. Neither of the Hobbits responded to their names. A frown creased Pippin's brow and his head jerked, but he didn't wake. Turning his gaze back to the ceiling, Frodo tried to twist his way out of the Velcro straps. Above him, a screen began to beep wildly with his heart rate. A whimper burst past his limps.

"_If you run into trouble," _Bilbo's voice whispered in his memory. _"Just say this."_

"Ho, T-Tom Bombadil," Frodo whispered, his voice catching his throat. He tried to swallow his fear and shut his eyes tight. "Tom Bombad-dillo. By water and hill, by reed and willow. By fire, sun, and moon, h-harken now and h-hear us. Come, T-Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us." Silence rang in the room. Frodo listened to his own breathing. For a moment he thought it had failed.

A scream rang down the hall. It sounded furious beyond belief. Jovial laughter followed it, a hearty cackle in the back of someone's throat. Metal clattered against walls and floor. More screams and furious shouts rang through the hall. Frodo froze on the table, holding his breath in fear. The shouts were drawing closer to their room. Maybe he needed to pretend he was asleep. Maybe they wouldn't hurt him.

_Pop_. A laughing man flipped into existence from thin air. He landed easily on his feet and straightened up. Never before had Frodo seen such a man. He was a bit taller than Hobbits normally were with wrinkles around his eyes and a jovial smile on his lips. His personality seemed to be made of nothing but a sunny disposition. The Hobbit, judging by his short stature despite his boots, threw back his head and laughed. It was a great belly laugh that rolled off his tongue. Frodo couldn't help but feel relaxed in this Hobbit's presence. Eventually, the Hobbit stopped laughing – though his eyes still shone with laughter – and he turned blue eyes on Frodo.

"You called Tom," he said. "Underhill calls Tom several days. Says, go get my friend, Tom, they might be in trouble, Tom. And Tom owes Underhill, he does. So Tom does the right thing. He listens for his name, he does, and then you called it." Frodo stared at this new Hobbit, Tom Bombadil, wondering if there was something wrong with him.

Someone on the other side of the door screamed furiously as they collided with it. Frodo jolted in surprise. His eyes flicked between Tom Bombadil and the door. Tom Bombadil turned to give the door an inquiring look then shook his head, laughing to himself.

"Never do learn, they don't," he said, as though speaking to himself. "Tom doesn't do jobs halfway. Locked that door, Tom did. He popped into the door and locked the system up. Those gears won't be moving, no they won't. Not for a long time, nope." That settled it. There was something wrong with this Hobbit. Something wasn't right in his head.

"B-Bilbo," Frodo said. Tom Bombadil turned back to him. His eyes wrinkled with more laughter.

"Don't know a Bilbo, Tom doesn't," he told Frodo. "But he knows an Underhill. Told Tom to save his friends, he did, so Tom comes to save his friends." Frodo blinked, unsure of what to say. "Course, Tom can't do the saving when he's laughing to himself. Needs to get work done, yes he does." He hurried across the room and grabbed Frodo's arm. "Tom takes you then he takes them," he said with a nod toward the other three Hobbits. Frodo tensed when the warm fingers shifted against his bare skin. "Then Underhill says to get your ship, yessir. So Tom gets you then the ship, yep. That's what Tom does."

Frodo opened his mouth, not entirely sure if he would end up insulting this Tom Bombadil, but the next moment he swallowed his own words. Tom Bombadil's ears twitched and he seemed to leap into the air. Except, he didn't land on the ground. Frodo felt himself wrenched free of the restraints. The sensation of being trapped against another body in a tight space filled him. The claustrophobia flooded his brain. And then it was over. He no longer felt as if he was in a tube.

The first thing Frodo noticed was the soft, cushioning ground beneath his toes. The air smelled of fresh blooming flowers. Water trickled somewhere, weaving in and out with a song. Frodo swayed on the spot before collapsing forward to his knees. The soft ground caught him as he fell into a heap. A mossy sensation rubbed against his cheek. He was briefly aware of another _pop_ before his eyes fluttered closed.

O.o.O

Waking up twice in one day after a shock drained Frodo. He almost didn't want to wake up. Nestled in a bed of cushions, he was comfortable to continue sleeping, oblivious to the world around him. Something cracked near Frodo. His ears twitched when the sound came again. A stream trickled somewhere nearby. Cracking an eye open, Frodo looked about himself. For a moment he thought he was dreaming.

High above him were branches of trees. They wove together to form a knot of branches. Their leaves rustled in an unseen wind. Fruits of all sorts of vibrant colors grew on the branches, weighing a few down. Flower bloomed high in the trees. They looked like little decorations littered amongst the leaves.

_Crack_. Frodo sat up at the sound. _Crack_. It sounded as though someone was breaking something. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. He stood on a bed of moss. In fact, the entire forest floor seemed to be made of nothing but moss. It squished under his feet as he moved slowly through it. _Crack_. He was drawing nearer to the sound now.

"Think Frodo'll wake up soon?"

"Leave Mr. Frodo to rest."

"But he should be up soon. It's about morning, yeah?"

Stepping out of the trees, Frodo found himself in a small clearing. His three friends stood together in a group whispering back and forth. Tom Bombadil was nowhere to be seen, but the cracking sound continued high above. With each crack, a fruit rolled down to the forest floor. Sam glanced up from frowning at Pippin. His eyes widened when he saw Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo, you're awake," he exclaimed. Pippin whirled around. A grin split across the tween's face.

"Frodo, you're up!"

"Morning, Frodo," Merry said, turning toward him. Frodo made his way across the clearing to his friends. Pippin bounced excitedly in the spot. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," Frodo said truthfully. Merry nodded before planting one hand on Pippin's shoulder to try and keep him still.

"I think we all feel that way."

"Did you meet that Tom Bombadil?" Sam asked in a hushed whisper. His eyes flicked upward to the tree branches above. Another fruit fell to the ground. "Doesn't seem all there."

"Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo," Tom Bombadil sang in the trees above. Pippin stifled his laughter with a hand. "His coat is blue and his boots are yellow."

"Interesting guy," Merry muttered under his breath. Frodo opened his mouth to respond but the words never came. Instead, a sense of comfort and safety washed over him. He relaxed his tense stance, watching as Merry, Pippin, and Sam did the exact same.

"You'll have to forgive Tom," a soft voice said. A slender Hobbit with golden curls cascading down her back stepped out from behind a tree. She wore a simple blue dress that seemed to ripple like a stream. She smiled softly at the Hobbits and the sense of comfort increased. "He's not exactly all there."

"We figured that," Pippin said. Merry smacked him. "Ow!" But the new Hobbit just laughed a twinkling giggle. And, for reasons unknown to himself, Frodo felt himself laughing. What Pippin had said did actually seem kind of funny.

"Help me gather the fruit and we can have breakfast," the Hobbit said. Tom Bombadil dropped from a tree high above, landing beside her. If the Hobbit was surprised, she didn't show it.

"Goldberry," Tom Bombadil cried happily. "Goldberry, Tom's wife had come. The River-Daughter!" Goldberry just smiled and patted Tom Bombadil on the head. "Come, Underhill's friends, eat fruit and be happy. It's sweet, it is. Tom made sure they were ripe, he did. They're good for eating. Trust Tom on this, you better."

"Gather them first, Tom," Goldberry laughed. Tom Bombadil's grin didn't waver as he skipped away, bending down every so often to pick up a fruit.

The four Hobbits helped Tom Bombadil and Goldberry collect the fruit. They were heavy violet fruits Frodo had never seen before. A tentative nibble revealed the flesh was sweet and the skins were edible. Frodo bit into one, savoring the berry-like flavor.

"To Old Man Willow we go," Tom Bombadil cried out happily, his arms full of fruit. "Tom Bombadil knows the way, he does. Follow Tom!"

"This way," Goldberry said. She and Tom Bombadil led the Hobbits through the trees. Frodo stared around himself in wonder. Something told him this wasn't a forest on a planet.

"Old Man Willow, quit your whining," Tom Bombadil shouted. Frodo looked forward to find the Hobbit shouting at a large, ferris wheel-like machine. Water poured from one paddle onto another and kept it spinning quickly in his cradle. Behind it spun an engine of strange proportions, unlike anything else Frodo had ever seen. It was long and slender, encased in silver panels.

"This is a ship," Sam said in awe. Goldberry smiled at him as she dumped her fruit into a bowl. She held it out and the Hobbits added their fruit to the pile.

"It is a biological terrain ship," Goldberry said. Tom Bombadil continued to shout at the engine, calling it Old Man Willow. "A Dwarf designed it. Underhill was the one who built it for us."

"Dwarves designed this?" Merry asked, his eyes narrowing. The suspicious attitude melted into a relaxed grin when Goldberry turned her smile on him. Not even Frodo could feel anger at the Dwarves for what they'd done. It didn't matter if they'd taken Berilac. He was in a better place now.

"Don't blame the Dwarves for something you don't understand," Goldberry told Merry. Grabbing Tom Bombadil by the shoulder, she dragged him to sit on the ground beside her. Frodo sank to the ground on his knees and wrapped his fingers around a fruit.

"Why are the Dwarves taking us from the Shire System?" Pippin asked in a vaguely interested voice.

"There are things you don't understand about your own System," Goldberry said. Tom Bombadil sang to himself as he sank his teeth into a piece of fruit.

"The Barrow Downs," Tom Bombadil said through a mouthful of fruit. Goldberry sent him a curious look, as though she didn't know what to expect from him. "Tom knows the Barrow Downs, he does. Was born there, yessir. Underhill saved me. Me and Goldberry, the River-Daughter. Saved us, he did, and then we owed him. Having stopped owing him, no Tom hasn't. Owes him for his wife."

"Tom and I come from the Barrow Downs," Goldberry explained. "We were freed from it many years ago by a group of Dwarves. Underhill helped us to free ourselves from the horror of it. We haven't stopped owing him since."

"Is that why you rescued us?" Frodo asked. "Because you had a debt?" Goldberry laughed her high, tinkling laugh.

"No, no, by no means," she said, waving a hand at Frodo. "Tom has never stopped saving anyone from the Barrow Downs for as long as we've been alive."

"Pops in, Tom does. Pops in and saves them. Plenty of Hobbits free." He cast a smiling eye toward the four Hobbits. "Should take you to the Dwarves, Tom should. That's what they tells us. Go to the Barrow Downs, Tom, we can't get there. Bring us back the Hobbits, Tom, and we'll give you food. So Tom saves the Hobbits. Takes them to the Dwarves. Should take you there too, but Underhill tells him not to. Says to take the Hobbits to Bree, he does. So Tom takes you to Bree, yessir."

"You're taking us to Bree?" Frodo asked excitedly, and Goldberry nodded. "Thank you . . . for everything."

"You should be thanking Underhill. He is the real brains behind the operation."

"Who's this Underhill fellow?" Sam asked curiously.

"Don't mention his name. Hush, hush. Call him Underhill. They won't find him." The four Hobbits looked between each other. They'd heard those words before. The thought niggled at Frodo's mind until a wave of relaxation washed over him. Looking over, he saw Goldberry smiling at him. Everything was just fine. He didn't need to worry about Underhill right now.

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_


	8. Forest Relaxations

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good evening!_

_After a lengthy conversation with Castor, we have decided that Tom Bombadil is indeed an important part of the story. I was questioning the use of the scenes in the last chapter, but Castor assured me they were necessary. Tom Bombadil plays a bit more of a role in this story than he did in the original book . . . I hope._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Forest Relaxations<strong>

Life aboard _Fatty Lumpkin_, as the Hobbits discovered from Goldberry, was quite enjoyable. She was a biological terrain ship originally designed to transport families from one planet to another comfortably. The trees had been trained to grow around the wires of the ship. The energy of the engine was spread throughout the ship by these wires. The engine itself was not like others. It was an aqua-engine, designed to be sustainable. The water spun the wheel which then created energy to spin the engine. When Frodo asked, Goldberry said the Dwarf who had designed the ship had abandoned the idea of it, thinking it would never get off the ground.

Tom Bombadil was a character unlike any other. Whatever had happened on the Barrow Downs to him had driven him mentally insane. He laughed at the most ridiculous things, danced between trees, and enjoyed popping in and out of areas. The nastiest shock Frodo had ever had happened one day when Tom Bombadil popped into the air beside him. The older Hobbit had laughed at Frodo's gaping face before skipping away. When asked out this, Goldberry just smiled sadly. The sensation of curiosity would fade from Frodo's mind and he would wander off to find something else to do.

The trip to Bree lasted three and a half days. They passed several Khazad ships on the way. Each ship hailed the _Fatty Lumpkin_. Sometimes Tom Bombadil answered it and other times it was Goldberry. They never revealed their guests, only sharing snippets of information. Frodo would listen in on the conversations and wonder why the Dwarves were hunting Bilbo down. They didn't seem like a violent race when he could understand them.

Merry and Pippin shared his curiosity on the matter while Sam appeared to want nothing to do with it. The three could be found during their free time thinking up wild reasons. Goldberry found them one time and just shook her head. _Best to leave it be_, she had said. _Underhill works in mysterious ways. He has his reasons._ This didn't stop Pippin, though. He continued to trek on with ideas that grew wilder and wilder by the minute.

By the time they reached Bree's airspace, Frodo was happy to be leaving the ship. Tom Bombadil refused to land his ship on the planet. Instead, he stocked the Hobbits' shuttle with as much fruit as they could handle, ensured they knew where to go, and then saw them off his ship. Frodo accepted the jovial hug readily enough and even received a hug from Goldberry.

"Be safe," the female Hobbit said. "Be sure to call for Tom if something goes wrong." Frodo assured her they would then drew out of the hug. Goldberry waved goodbye as he boarded the shuttle. Sam climbed in behind him, dragging the door shut. It latched automatically when Pippin started the engine.

"Ready to go?" Merry asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Sam said, dropping onto a bench. "That Tom Bombadil is a strange fellow."

"He did save us," Frodo said. He seated himself across from Sam on the bench. Tom Bombadil had been kind enough to 'pop', as he said, back onto the Barrow Downs and find their clothes for them. The Hobbits hadn't asked him to, but it had been impossible to convince him he didn't need to. Tom Bombadil was just gone one second and back the next.

"I know that, Mr. Frodo," Sam said earnestly. "But he didn't right in the head."

"His head's fine," Pippin called from the engine room. "It works the way he needs it to." Sam scowled in his direction, ignoring Merry's snort of amusement. "Just like yours, Sam."

"Oi!" Frodo laughed as Sam proceeded to call Pippin every mean name under the stars he could think of.

O.o.O

They landed on Bree just as the rain started. Pippin shut the engine's power down before sliding the lid of the cradle shut. Merry dragged himself from the pilot seat to open the door to the shuttle before either Frodo or Sam could.

"Trust me," Merry said. "I know my way around Bree." Frodo nodded hesitantly, shouldering his pack. Pippin inched his way forward excitedly. Sam hung back, nervous about what was coming.

Merry released the latch of the shuttle and dragged the door open. Freezing rain and cold air buffeted the four Hobbits as they stepped out. Pippin was the one to drag the door shut once more and locked it while Merry wandered off toward a tall Man. Frodo watched the exchange nervously, eyeing up the figure. The Man conversed back and forth with Merry who laughed. Finally, they shook hands and exchanged money. Merry made his way back to the group.

"Great news," he said. "We got here just in time. They're preparing to shut the gates."

"Excellent," Pippin said with a grin. "No staying in the forest again." Merry nodded happily.

"We'll be able to get to the Prancing Pony?" Frodo asked.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Merry told him. He clapped a dour-looking Sam on the shoulder. "Cheer up, Sam, the Pony has good food and ale. You'll be warm in no time."

"Never liked the rain," Sam said before sending Frodo a worried look. "Are you feeling all right, Mr. Frodo?" he asked. Frodo couldn't help but smile at his friend's simple worries. Merry cocked his head, his eyes watching Frodo in a calculating manner.

"I don't see anything wrong," Merry said, going back to his days with the asthma lessons of the Master of Buckland. "Pip?" Pippin wrinkled his nose in thought.

"Nope. All good here."

"You see, Sam," Frodo said. "I feel fine. No attacks right now."

"All right, but you better be careful. You're not good in the cold and rain." Frodo just shook his head and followed Merry and Pippin off the tarmac. The Man Merry had spoken to past them to prepare booking their ship into the docking station.

The tall gates of Bree loomed before the Hobbits in the dark rain. The slats of wood were of different sizes, all of them with pointy tips. The rain trickled down the surface, occasionally catching on slivers. A single door in the gate remained open. Light trickled through it from the village behind. Roaring laughter and the sounds of wheels and whirring engines carried through the wood.

"Bree's a bit of an old village," Pippin told Frodo and Sam as they made their way toward the door. "You'll find both wagons and hover-carts here."

"Are there any Hobbits here?" Frodo asked curiously.

"Plenty," Merry answered. "They've seen us enough times to recognize us, but they have a few families of their own living here. You don't really see the Hobbits outside of their _smials_, though."

"Maybe we'll see some at the Prancing Pony," Pippin commented. He shook the rain from his hair, splattering Sam who huffed in annoyance.

Frodo followed Merry through the Man-sized door. The noise of the village increased with the closer vicinity. Men loomed over them from the doorways of buildings. Lights streamed through the panes of windows and open doors. Large carts rolled past drawn by hover-bikes. Frodo stumbled back as a particular Man strode past him on long legs.

"Watch it," the Man shouted over his shoulder.

"I love this place!" Merry grinned as he shoved his way through the crowds in the road. The mud sloshed over their feet. Rain dragged its freezing fingers down Frodo's back. He shuddered and wrapped his arms tighter around himself. He needed to get indoors before the cold got to him. Sam would freak out if he had an asthma attack in the middle of the road.

Merry led them down the roads, staying close to the edge of the crowds. Frodo tried to give them a wide berth while at the same time keeping a close eye on his friend. Getting lost now was not ideal. Snippets of conversation reached his ears as they passed groups of conversing Men.

"Shoulda seen that lady!"

"I'm tellin' ya, finest thin' ya ever did see."

"Good bike. What's the mileage on it like?"

"We almost had him on the docks." Frodo's head whipped around. He searched the gathered Men until his eyes fell on a group of Dwarves. A be-hatted, dark-haired Dwarf spoke to a slightly taller Dwarf with a regal air around him.

"Why did you not stop him?" the regal Dwarf demanded. His icy blue eyes flicked momentarily toward Frodo who turned away. He'd recognized the third Dwarf of the group. It was the one from before, the blond one. Dean.

"They couldn't stop him, Richard," he heard Dean say. "He'd shot Aidan unconscious."

"Perhaps we need to try another approach."

"_Richard. He's the captain, and Aidan and Dean's uncle."_ Frodo shuddered to himself. Now that he'd seen the captain of the crew hunting Bilbo for himself, he could see how much trouble the older Hobbit was in. Richard looked dangerous from afar; ready to throw someone off a wall if he needed to and not lose a minute of sleep.

"You all right, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked from behind.

"I'm fine," Frodo told his worried friend. "Just cold."

"Aye, I think we all are," Sam agreed.

"Not to worry," Merry called back. "We'll be there in a minute or two."

Sure enough, the Prancing Pony loomed only a few feet before them. It was the loudest building of them all. Men and women alike stood in the doorway and out in the rain. They clutched mugs in their hands while laughing and conversing with one another. Even a few Hobbits stood around with them. Most of the small folk were perched on barrels or window ledges to keep them out of harm's way. Merry ushered Sam and Frodo inside, he and Pippin bringing up the rear.

The inside of the Prancing Pony was even louder than the outside. Raucous Men stood at the bar and sat at tables. Barmaids wove their way back and forth through tables with mugs of beer and plates of food in their hands.

"Good evening," a rough voice called. Frodo turned at it to see a rather round Man towering over them. He bent low to speak with the Hobbits. "What can I do for you, Mr . . ?"

"Elijah," Frodo said, remembering what Bilbo had said. _Don't use your real name. _"Elijah Wood."

"Mr. Wood, fine name," the Man said. "Butterbur's my name. What can I do for you, then?"

"We need a Hobbit room," Merry spoke up from behind. Butterbur's attention turned to him and Merry pushed his way to the front. "We're staying for the night, waiting for a few friends."

"Haven't I seen you around here before?" Butterbur commented.

"Dominic Monaghen, you remember," Merry said. "Billy and I come here once in a while. We don't usually stay the night."

"Oh, I remember. You're the ones with the songs about Tooks."

"That's right," Pippin said. "And this is our friend Sean Astin." He clapped Sam on the shoulder. The older Hobbit glared at him.

"All right, a room for four Hobbits. I should have space available. Is there anything else I can do?"

"We're looking for Gandalf the Grey," Frodo said. "Can you tell him we've arrived?"

"Gandalf?" Butterbur repeated with a frown. Frodo nodded. "Gandalf . . . haven't seen him in over six months." Frodo's heart sank. "He came by a while ago asking if I could contact Tauriel for him. She's been hanging about my bar ever since. Sure has drawn in the men, but drives them away with her sharp tongue." Pippin's face visibly lit up and he looked around the bar expectantly.

"What about Strider?" Merry piped up before Frodo could say anything else. Sam gave Frodo a comforting pat on the arm. "Have you seen him?"

"I think he's somewhere around town," Butterbur told him. "I can send Nob or Bob to find him if you like."

"That'd be great if you would."

"All right. Well, just seat yourselves at a table and I'll send some food over soon as I can."

Merry thanked the barkeeper then dragged Frodo through the crowded room. Men stepped out of their way as they passed. A few patted Merry and Pippin's heads in familiar greeting. The two Hobbits accepted each one and even returned a few slaps to the hands. Finally, they worked their way toward a Hobbit-sized table. Frodo seated himself gingerly, Sam taking the one beside them. Pippin looked around himself excitedly, seemingly at home in the bustling crowds.

"Here we are." Four half-pint mugs were set before the Hobbits. "Anything else before I go, _Perian_?" Frodo glanced up at the Elvish word. Beside him, Sam stiffened. It was a female Elf with waist-length red hair. She watched the four Hobbits with twinkling eyes.

"Tauriel," Merry said fondly. "I didn't see you over by the bar."

"I was in the back. I have been doing some small jobs for Butterbur while I waited for Gandalf."

"What about your friend?" Pippin asked. "Is he here? The blond one."

"His father called him back home," Tauriel said. "What brings you all to Bree? I have not seen you in many months." Her eyes drifted past Merry and Pippin, toward Frodo and Sam. Frodo shifted nervously on his seat. Sam remained entranced by this far she-Elf.

"We came looking for Gandalf," Pippin said truthfully. Frodo almost kicked him under the table. "But Butterbur says he's not here. So he's sending Nob or Bob to find Strider."

"Strider," Tauriel repeated with a blink. She smiled softly. "You will not be seeing him for a few good hours. Last I heard he was about by the trolls."

"Trolls?" Sam croaked, and Tauriel nodded.

"Aye, there are a few stone trolls out in the forest. The villagers like to go out there once in a while to stare at them. Now, Merry and Pippin, you have not introduced me to your friends yet." Sam sat up straighter in his seat.

"This is Frodo Baggins," Merry said. Frodo nodded a greeting to Tauriel who bowed low. "And his gardener, Samwise Gamgee." Sam blushed to the ears when Tauriel gave him a bow. He hid his face behind his mug, muttering to himself.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all," Tauriel said. "If you want I could go find Strider for you. I would find him faster than either Bob or Nob. Besides," she spared a glance for Butterbur before leaning forward conspiratorially. "I am certain Butterbur has already forgotten." Frodo glanced over his shoulder at the barman. Indeed, he looked as though he'd already been distracted by another customer.

"Would you?" Merry asked. Tauriel nodded. "That'd be great. Thanks, Tauriel." The red-haired Elf gave one more bow before disappearing into the crowds of the Prancing Pony. Frodo spotted her at the door with a long bow in her hands.

"That's Tauriel," Pippin said unnecessarily. "She's from the Woodland Realm over in the Khazad System."

"What's she doing all the way over here? Sam asked in a dazed voice. Pippin smirked into his mug of ale.

"Got banished," Merry explained. "Did something to anger her king and now she can never go home. Her friend visits a lot, though. We met him once, didn't we, Pip? You remember Legolas?"

"Mm," Pippin hummed through the cup, nodding.

"Fascinating Elf. Seemed a bit pompous, though. Apparently he's like his father . . ." Frodo tuned out the conversation. His eyes had returned to the door as it swung open. He couldn't see anyone at first, not until the patron shoved his way through the crowds.

He was a burly Dwarf, taller than usual, with a bald head. Tattoos littered his scalp and hands which were covered with knuckledusters. He bore an impressive mustache and hardly any beard. Two battle axes had been strapped to his back, a war hammer slipped between them. The Dwarf scanned the occupants of the bar. His dark eyes paused briefly on Frodo before he turned toward the barman and called for a beer. Frodo swallowed hard, his finger drifting toward his pocket.

O.o.O

_Minutes earlier, Bree, Outside the Unnamed Villain_

"We almost had him on the docks," Bofur explained to Thorin, his hands raised in a placating manner. Thorin didn't drop either his crossed arms or his scowl. His stance was clearly one of defense. Behind him, Dwalin snorted from the doorway of the inn.

"Why didn't you stop him?" Thorin demanded. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Someone was watching him. Raising his eyes, he scanned the crowd around them. Nothing out of the ordinary stood out . . . his eyes fell on a quartet of Hobbits. The oldest seemed to be watching him. Thorin frowned, hardly aware of what Fili was saying, as the Hobbit looked away.

"They couldn't stop him, Richard. He'd shot Aidan unconscious."

"Perhaps we need to try another approach," Thorin said vaguely. He watched the Hobbit draw closer to the Prancing Pony. Fili twisted around to see what he was staring at. His nephew made a sound of surprise.

"I know that Hobbit," he said. "He was on Hobbiton." Bofur turned just in time to see the four Hobbits disappear into the Prancing Pony.

"Martin was talkin' ta him," the engineer said. "He distracted us and those four got away." Thorin frowned after the Hobbits. He could have sworn the oldest one looked similar. He had the same curly hair and green eyes. Could it be possible? Well, better not to leave a Hobbit from the Shire System unattended.

"Dwalin," he said. The warrior grunted to show he was listening. "Bring me the oldest Hobbit. He looks a bit like Martin." Dwalin shoved off the doorway and marched past his captain, disappearing into the crowds of the Bree. Thorin saw him vanish through the doorway of the Prancing Pony almost immediately after Tauriel had immerged. That job done, he turned back to continue his discussion with Fili and Bofur.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Hopefully many of you are starting to see the similarities between the two _Into Space _stories. :) I realize this story strays far from the original book, but in case you haven't noticed . . . that's all my stories are about. I rewrite the books in an original way that really stands out. More to come!_


	9. Inn Trouble

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good evening, again!_

_Strangely enough, I've got nothing better to do tonight than just update, update, update! I don't how much I'll get in, but I can try my best. A particular part of this scene is actually what caused this story to be written. Explanation in the end notes!_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Inn Trouble<strong>

An hour and a half later and two mugs later, Frodo decided he hadn't had enough ale. Tauriel hadn't returned yet with Strider. He didn't know how far away the trolls were, but he supposed Tauriel was having a hard finding this Strider fellow. With a name like that, he had to be quick on his feet. Tauriel would come. She had to.

Frodo made his way through the crowd toward the bar. Though the hour was late, there were still several patrons in the main area. Not many had gone to bed. And if they had then they'd been replaced by one of the patrons from the outside. Despite the crowds, Frodo had no trouble getting to the bar. Men and women moved aside for him easily. One man in particular even lifted him onto a barstool so he could order an ale from Butterbur. The barman produced the drink in a flash and the Man lifted Frodo down from the counter. Frodo thanked the Man, earning himself a pat on the head. Bree wasn't turning out to be such a bad place after all.

He had turned around to return to his seat when he collided with someone. The stranger grunted in surprise while Frodo yelped, stumbling backward. The mug of ale slipped from his fingers and into another hand. Frodo wasn't staring at it, though. He was watching the Dwarf in front of him. It was the burly one from the door.

"Careful," the Dwarf said, handing the mug back to him. Frodo wrapped numb fingers around the handle. "Could have lost your drink." Frodo swallowed through his dry throat.

"Thank you," he whispered. The Dwarf raised an eyebrow.

"Haven't seen you around here before," the Dwarf said. "Where are you from?" Frodo wracked his brains for answer. He couldn't just tell this Dwarf he was from Hobbiton. The Dwarf would take him away for sure. A vague memory of Merry listing off nearby planets came to the front of his memory.

"Staddle," he said. "My friends and I are visiting." He pointed toward Sam, Merry, and Pippin. The Dwarf followed his finger before his eyes narrowed.

"You're all from Staddle?"

"Yes, sir. Elijah Wood." Frodo offered his hand out in greeting. The Dwarf turned his gaze to it for a moment before taking it. Frodo swallowed at the firm grip. The leather of the knuckledusters rubbed against his palms.

"Graham," the Dwarf said. "Graham McTavish." He jerked Frodo forward. The Hobbit stumbled, colliding with the Dwarf's hard chest. Graham leaned down, his beard tickling Frodo's ear. "Funny thin', you look like Bilbo Baggins." Frodo's eyes widened. The Dwarf's hand shifted its grip to his wrist. He needed to get away from Graham.

Jerking backward, Frodo kicked the Dwarf hard in the back of his knee. The Dwarf's knee gave out under the kick and he fell backward to the floor with a roar. Frodo threw his mug of ale at Graham. It bounced off his skull, the ale spilling down his front. The Dwarf shook his head, growling, but Frodo was already gone, lost in the crowds of the Prancing Pony. Surprisingly, no one had reacted badly to the incident.

Frodo wove this way through the patrons, making sure to remain among the tall Men. He heard furious Khuzdul shouted over the words. Men shouted angrily when they were shoved aside. Glancing over his shoulder, Frodo spotted Graham shoving Men aside. The Dwarf was slowed down by his bulk and Frodo managed to disappear between two women in long dresses. Ducking down, he hid under a tall table. Fur-lined boots stormed past him moments later. Frodo watched them go, breathing a sigh of relief to himself. He would wait under here for a few minutes until he was certain the Dwarf was gone. Then he'd be able to retreat to a room with Merry, Pippin, and Sam. Hopefully Strider would be there by now.

O.o.O

The ale had blurred his mind's eye. He couldn't tell one voice from another anymore. They'd blended together, the volume raising, until it was like someone was beating a drum against his skull. Pippin massaged his temples, wishing it would stop.

"_Need to get my – Shoulda told him soon – Wonder how mom's doing – Where'd he go – Need to get out of here – Have to find Nob, can't remember why."_

"Pip." Someone shook his shoulder. Pippin frowned, trying to decipher the voices in his head. "Pip!" Shaking his head, Pippin turned bleary eyes to his cousin. Merry watched him with a worried expression. _"Are you all right? Do you need to go to bed?"_ Merry's voice stood out from the rest as it always had, a sturdy rock in a sea.

"I'm fine," Pippin mumbled, trying to smile at Merry. "Just a bit of a head ache." Merry's frown deepened but he nodded.

"_Let me know when you need to stop. I'll tell Sam you have migraines."_ Pippin nodded, his head ducking up and down like bobble head. Sam hadn't noticed their strange, silent conversation. In fact, he was more worried about Rosie Cotton than anything else. Pippin couldn't help the snort of laughter that burst from his mouth. Sam glared at him.

"_Need to find that Hobbit."_ Pippin froze with the mug halfway to his lips. His eyes flicked over the patrons of the bar. _"Looked like Bilbo Baggins. Have to get him. Saw him go this way."_ Pippin watched several of the Men, dismissing many of them as the 'speaker'. The voice was too rough for any of them.

"_Have to get out of here."_ That was Frodo. _"Need to warn the others. Dwarves are trying to find me. They want Bilbo."_ Lowering his mug, Pippin twisted on his seat. He couldn't see Frodo anywhere, but he had spotted a Dwarf moving around the bar. He seemed to be searching for something.

"Merry," Pippin whispered, twisting back to face his friend. Merry hummed. "Where's Frodo?" Sam bolted upright on his seat, looking around himself. Merry frowned thoughtfully.

"He went to get another drink," Merry said. _"He shouldn't have taken this long. What's wrong?"_

"There's a Dwarf," Pippin said, lowering his voice. Merry leaned in closer. "The Dwarf said something. He's trying to find Bilbo." Merry's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"_From the crew hunting Bilbo?"_

"I think so."

"_Right,"_ Merry told Pippin. To Sam he said, "We need to find Frodo. I'm sure Butterbur has those rooms ready."

"I'm getting tired anyway," Sam said. "I'll check the bar."

"Good idea," Merry said. He watched Sam go before turning to Pippin. He grabbed his cousin by the shoulders. "Okay, Pip, focus. What do you see?" Shutting his eyes tight, Pippin tried to focus on the thoughts he'd heard before. He located Frodo in a matter of seconds. Frowning, Pippin shook his head.

"I see legs. Lots of legs. I can't tell what's what, though."

"Dammit," Merry swore under his breath. _"You search the door, I'll check the back room."_ Pippin nodded and slid from his seat, hurrying toward the front door of the inn.

O.o.O

Frodo remained hidden under the table for nearly twenty minutes. Several pairs of boots passed him, a fur-lined pair marching past several times, but none of them ever came close to kicking him. For a second he had seen Pippin's feet pattering past. He'd almost called out right then and there but had restrained himself. Even together, they weren't a match for a single Dwarf.

Frodo had just relaxed when it happened. A hand shot under the table. Thick fingers wrapped themselves in his shirt and jerked him forward. Frodo yelped as he was dragged out from under the table. Graham grinned at his catch.

"Found you."

"No, let mmph!" Frodo's shout was cut off by Graham's thick hand. The Dwarf dragged him upright then pinned him against his body with a single arm.

"Thought you could escape me," Graham said softly so no one else would hear him. Frodo struggled in his arms, trying to break free. The Dwarf just chuckled at his attempts. "You're not goin' anywhere but with me."

"Mph!" Frodo tried to scream past the hand. He could see Sam standing at the counter speaking to Butterbur, no doubt asking if he'd seen Frodo. If only he could shout.

"Come on." The Dwarf began to drag Frodo through the crowd of patrons. The Men shifted easily for the Dwarf and Hobbit. Frodo knew how they'd look: a Dwarf accompanying a drunk Hobbit from the inn. The hand around his mouth cupped his chin in an almost caring way.

Nothing Frodo did would break the Dwarf's grip. Graham grunted with his struggles and continued on his way through the door. For a split second, Frodo spotted Pippin looking about frantically. He was frowning and his eyes seemed slightly unfocussed as he looked around. Frodo tried to shout, but he couldn't make a sound. Something must have made Pippin turn around, though, because he spotted Frodo through the crowd and his eyes widened.

The door swung shut before Pippin could do anything and his last chance was gone. Frodo fell limp in the Dwarf's arms. He tripped along with the longer strides of the taller race. Graham didn't seem one bit hindered by his shorter legs. Instead, he hoisted Frodo into his arms slightly and practically dragged him through the pouring rain. Frodo shivered as it trickled down his shirt. He could already feel his chest constricting with the cold weather and terror combined.

O.o.O

"_Pippin, here!"_ Pippin whirled around in time to see a Dwarf dragging Frodo out of the inn. His eyes widened. Frodo had been caught. He needed to tell Merry!

Forcing his way through the crowd, Pippin tried to make his way to the back room. Only a few patrons moved out of his way this time. They were more interested in their conversations and drinks then his hurried shoves. Pippin had barely made it halfway through the room before Merry seemed to materialize before him.

"He's not in the back room," Merry said grimly. "I checked. Twice."

"A Dwarf got him," Pippin managed to say before someone stepped no his foot. He glared at the patron who didn't bother to apologize.

"What?" Merry demanded. Grabbing Pippin's arm, he spun his cousin around. _"We need to get to Sam and find Frodo. Move!"_ Pippin allowed his cousin to maneuver him through the crowds. They shoved people aside together until they'd finally found Sam stepping away from the bar with a glum expression.

"No luck," he said as soon as he spotted Merry and Pippin. _"Why couldn't Mr. Bilbo have done this himself? It would have been safer for Mr. Frodo."_

"We found him," Merry said, shaking his head before Sam could ask. "A Dwarf caught him. Pip says they left already."

"Which way did they go?" Sam demanded. Pippin could only shrug. The stouter Hobbit shoved him aside and began making his way toward the door. Merry and Pippin followed as best as they could.

They burst through the door of the inn and into the freezing rain. Sam looked back and forth, his hair already soaked in the few short seconds he'd been outside. His distress rolled over Pippin waves. Pippin shook his head to banish the sensation before turning his mind toward Frodo again. If only he could locate him. Shutting his eyes tight, he focused.

"_I should have noticed the Hobbits' arrival – Wish I had a bike like that – Wonder what Legolas is doing – Need to buy something for the missus – Should tell him about the Hobbits – Bagginsss – Help!."_

There! Pippin pinpointed the thought and focused. He could vaguely make out what Frodo was seeing. They'd passed the _Unnamed Villain_ and were heading for the gates of Bree.

"They're leaving," Pippin told Merry who groaned.

"Probably going to his crew." Sam's head whipped back forth between them. "Come on, we need to get Frodo before they take off."

Merry grabbed both Sam and Pippin's arms, dragging them through the nearly empty road. The mud sloshed and Men shouted when they ran past. Pippin's shoulder collided hard with one Man in particular. Shouting an apology over his shoulder, he had a brief glimpse of a tall Man with long legs and lanky hair. His green hood had been pulled up over his head. The Man frowned after them. His lips formed a word Pippin couldn't see, but he heard it.

"_Hobbits."_

O.o.O

The locked door of Bree didn't seem to hinder Graham in any way. He gave it a swift kick under the lock and the door swung open. Frodo stumbled through it, his foot catching on the rim. He collapsed to the ground, mud splattering his front. His breathing came out in wheezing gasps. He needed his inhaler and now.

"Careful," Graham muttered, hauling Frodo back to his feet.

"Please," Frodo managed to gasp out. The Dwarf sent him a curious look but continued on his way. "N-Need." Graham didn't seem to hear his wheezing gasps as he marched across the landing pad toward a particular ship.

Graham knocked hard on the door. It swung open almost immediately. A star-haired Dwarf stood there, looking Dwalin over with a lazy gaze. His eyes flicked momentarily over Frodo before he stepped back with a nod. Graham stepped into the ship easily, lifting Frodo after him. The door slammed shut behind them. One other Dwarf stood in the large cargo bay he'd been dragged into. Frodo recognized it as Richard, the Dwarf from the road.

"So," Richard said, crossing his arms. "This is the Hobbit."

"Aye," Graham told him. He held Frodo with the fierce grip on his harm. Frodo reached up with his other hand, trying to massage his chest. The wheezing had gotten worst in the past few minutes. "There were a couple others there, seemed to know him."

"James, take William and Peter with you. Find the other Hobbits."

"Aye, aye, Captain Tight Pants," James said, snapping a salute. Richard frowned at him as the smaller Dwarf disappeared toward a staircase.

"Now, about you," Richard said, turning back to Frodo. The Hobbit couldn't help it. The black dots swarmed over his vision before the Dwarf could say anymore. He collapsed amid a series of surprised shouts and running feet.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_All right, so Castor and I were watching the Fellowship of the Ring one evening when we got to the part where Strider grabs Frodo out from under the table. I turned to Castor and said "now imagine if that hand was a bit thicker and had tattoos and knuckledusters". Castor was so excited, she thought it was real story, I decided I would write sequels to my story. Oddly enough, this story has already started to take the same path as its predecessor. It was supposed to be an easy story and then a few things got thrown in there and suddenly it's not so easy. Not to mention (once again!) the main focus of the story is not what it was in the book. Weird._


	10. Bree Terrors

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings of the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_All passengers are asked to return to their bunks for the night. We have landed on Bree and will not be continuing on until tomorrow. Sweet dreams and enjoy this part of the flight!_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Bree Terrors<strong>

"_Hunt them. Catch them. Bring them."_ Pippin skidded to a stop in mid-step, nearly tripping over his own feet. Merry collided with him and Sam came tumbling afterward.

"What happened?" Sam demanded. "Why'd you stop?"

"Hush," Merry scolded, used to Pippin's moments of clarity.

"_Nori. Gloin. Bifur. Bring them back to me. Fainted. Need Oin. Wish he was here."_ The words were a jumbled mess in Pippin's head. Whoever was thinking had too many problems on his mind.

"They're coming for us," Pippin said breathlessly. His head whipped back and forth, taking in their surroundings. They stood in the center of the road, a few Men stumbling past them in drunk stupors. Up ahead he could see the gate's door swinging in the wind on its hinges. It creaked backward, opening wider. A boot stepped through.

"They're coming," Pippin repeated, backpedaling into Merry.

"Pip, what are you talking about?" Merry demanded. Pippin whirled around to face him, his stomach twisting in fear.

"They're coming. Their captain sent them," Pippin explained quickly. "We need to get out of here."

"But they have Mr. Frodo," Sam argued.

"They won't leave without us," Merry said. His eyes flicked over Pippin's shoulder. _"They're coming this way. Three of them, big and ugly."_ Pippin didn't dare look back in fear of giving them away. "We split up," Merry said. "Meet back at the Prancing Pony when we're finished. Pip, keep an eye out." Pippin nodded once. Sam didn't have time to ask what they were talking about before Merry shouted. "Go!"

The three of them split up. Merry vanished down a side street to the left between two buildings while Sam bolted down an alley on the other side of the road. With no other choice, Pippin took off running straight down the road. A shout rose up after him. It sounded furious. Pippin shook the wet hair from his eyes and continued running.

O.o.O

Nori spotted the Hobbits the moment he led Bifur and Gloin through the door of the gate. He moved forward slowly, his hand going back toward the thong of leather tucked into his belt. Bifur grunted in Khuzdul behind him.

"I know," Nori muttered. "I wasn't going to use my knives." He watched the Hobbits carefully. They stood in the center of the road, their heads pressed together. One of them seemed agitated about something or another. And then one of them shouted.

"Go!" The three Hobbits split ways, taking off down different streets.

"Dammit!" Nori shouted furiously, taking off after the Hobbits. Bifur and Gloin were hot on his heels, only stopping once they'd reached the spot the Hobbits had been. "Bill, take the main street," Nori ordered. Bifur frowned and spoke a word of Khuzdul. "I don't care if you don't like your nickname. Just go! Peter, go down the side street. Richard wants the Hobbits unharmed." Gloin nodded and disappeared down the side street after the chubbier Hobbit. Bifur shot Nori a dirty look before running down the main street.

Whirling on his heel, Nori ran into the alley. He leapt over a trash can and past a hissing cat. The cat leapt back in surprise, swiping out at Nori with sharp claws. He ignored the animal this time. Any other time he would've found something for the poor beast to eat. He knew what it was like to be living on the streets with nothing to eat. But that wasn't his goal.

The Hobbit was quick on his feet, quicker than Bilbo had been. He lacked Bilbo subtlety, though. Nori easily tracked the Hobbit by his path of destruction. Trash cans had been tipped on their sides. Crates of fruit and chickens alike laid strewn across the path. A few dogs barked furiously, straining against the leashes. Nori leapt over each obstacle and skirted the dogs. He'd have this Hobbit in the bag before the hour was up.

Nori tracked the Hobbit through the twists and turns of the alley. He eventually emerged in a small courtyard. The main iron gates of the area had been closed off and locked. Reaching surreptitiously into his back pocket, grabbing a small force field projector. He pressed the button and dropped it to the ground. The projector raised a force field over the alleyway.

Stepping forward slowly, Nori looked around himself carefully. He didn't know what to expect from this Hobbit. He'd met several in the last seventy-seven years who packed a mean punch. There was no telling if this Hobbit would be one of those. A pile of boxes had been stacked against one wall. Nori passed them off as hopeless. They hardly reached the roof of the buildings. The Hobbit wouldn't be getting out that way. He should have known better.

A strangled howl broke out through the sheets of rain. Nori whirled around just as a body collided with his from above. Thin arms wrapped around his neck while strong feet kicked him in the stomach. Nori grunted, stumbling backward. The Hobbit did it again and Nori growled. There was no way the Hobbit was getting him that easily. Grabbing the Hobbit's arms, he wrenched it off himself. The Hobbit squealed angrily, kicking out at Nori.

"Calm down, would you?" Nori snapped. The Hobbit twisted back and forth in his grip until his fingers, slippery with the rain, lost their hold. It tumbled to the ground, leaping up out of the roll. It stood with its feet apart and fists raised. "Right, you're a fighter. Easy picking."

Grabbing the thong from his belt, Nori charged forward. The Hobbit, obviously not having expected this, leapt backward in surprise. Nori took the advantage and wrapped one end of the thong around a wrist. The miniscule hook hidden inside caught the overlapping leather and pinned it there. Steeping smoothly around the Hobbit, Nori wrapped hooked the free wrist with the leather and wrapped it tight with the other. The Hobbit screeched and wrenched at the hooked bindings. Nori gave it a swift kick in the backside and the Hobbit stumbled forward, landing in a pile of trash. Oops. He'd get in trouble with Thorin for that one.

"Berilac," the Hobbit spat at Nori.

"Sorry," Nori told it. "Don't speak Hobbitish. Just Khuzdul and Westron."

"Berilac!" the Hobbit screeched, leaping to his feet. He charged Nori who ducked, easily flipping the Hobbit over his shoulder. It landed hard on its back. Nori heard the wheezing breaths and took it as a defeat. Another mistake he learned the hard way.

The Hobbit swept his feet out from under him with a kick of his legs. Nori tumbled to the floor, crashing hard against the stones. He grunted in slight pain. Almost nothing hurt anymore. The medical mites had taken that away long ago. The Hobbit was on him in seconds, weaving his fingers into Nori's hair. Nori's eyes narrowed dangerously. He didn't.

"Never," Nori said in a low voice. He saw the Hobbit's shoulders tense. "Touch my hair."

Wrapping one arm around the Hobbit's waist, he flipped them over, pinning the Hobbit to the stone ground easily. The Hobbit squirmed against his grip. Nori wriggled his fingers until they wrapped over the Hobbit's mouth. His other hand went to pinch the Hobbit's nose. The Hobbit squealed in terror and struggled harder. Nori held his grip, feeling like a rider in the rodeo, until the body underneath him stilled. Slowly, he released the Hobbit. He leaned forward, his ear hovering near the Hobbit's mouth. Still breathing. Good.

Nori stood from the ground, brushing the knees of his pants off. Leaning down, he bent the unconscious Hobbit over his shoulder. The still body knocked against his back. Nori felt slightly bad for what he'd done. The Hobbit had no idea what was going on. He'd only reacted instinctively. Making his way toward the entrance, he crouched to scoop the generator from the ground. The force field dropped in a second and Nori made his way through the alleys back the way he'd come. He stepped out onto the main street just as Gloin appeared with the chubby Hobbit in tow.

"Almost got away," Gloin grunted. His eyes flicked toward the Hobbit draped over Nori's shoulder. "You didn't?"

"Had no choice," Nori told him. "It wouldn't quit fighting." The Hobbit in Gloin's grip twisted hard against his bound hands. Gloin had stuffed a handkerchief in the Hobbit's mouth to keep it quiet. "Any idea where Billy is?"

"Haven't seen him," Gloin said with a shrug. A furious shout carried down the road. Both Dwarves turned to see Bifur stomping their way. He shook his finger furiously at Nori, speaking quick, clipped words.

"I don't care if you don't like the nickname. You were supposed to be finding the Hobbit." Bifur spoke again, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean you lost him? He ran straight down the street!" Bifur crossed his arms and looked away, muttering under his breath. "No, they can't just go invisible when they want. That's only Bilbo!" The Hobbit behind Gloin snapped out of the shock he'd fallen into when Bifur had approached them. He tried to kick at Gloin and slipped in the mud. Gloin grunted as the Hobbit fell to the ground.

Striding forward, Bifur seized the Hobbit by the front of his shirt and dragged him upright. Before either Nori or Gloin could stop him, he'd seized the Hobbit's hands and moved them to touch the axe in his head. Nori supposed he understood the theory behind the move. It had always made Bilbo calm down when he'd fallen into a screaming fit of terror. Of course, this wasn't Bilbo. The Hobbit froze with wide eyes before they rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground. Bifur grunted in surprise.

"Nice going, Billy," Nori snapped. "Now we have to carry him too." Bifur glared at Nori but bent down to fold the Hobbit over his own shoulder. Straightening up, he spoke a word of Khuzdul. "Yes, we're going back to the ship, but you're the one who's going to tell Dick you lost the Hobbit." The three Dwarves made their way toward the gate, bickering the entire way.

O.o.O

It was easy running from the Dwarf. Pippin had simply wove his way through the many winding alleys of Bree. He'd kept his mind's eye trained on the Dwarf the entire time. His awareness had told him just where the Dwarf was at all times. He had easily evaded all of his attempts to catch him.

The rain pounded hard against shoulders. It plastered his hair to his scalp and his clothes to his skin. He shivered, running his hands along his arms. He hadn't felt like this in a long time, not since he'd fallen ill with the flu a few years ago. He didn't dare move, though. He was safer up on the rooftops than down below on the ground.

"_Has to be around here somewhere."_ Perking up, Pippin focused on this new mind. It sounded a bit more free-spirited than the rest. But it was still a Dwarf. _"Bifur said he was around here."_

"_Can't have gone far,"_ said another voice in Pippin's head. _"Small town."_

"_Should be finding Bilbo. Dratted Hobbit."_

"_Need to find this Hobbit."_

"_Stupid rain."_

"_Wonder how Ori's doing."_

"_Wish we weren't out here hunting."_

"_Where could he have gone?"_

"_Itsi, imkhihi, mahitsi."_

The voices blurred together. Pippin couldn't differentiate between them. There were nine in all. That much he could tell. Nine Dwarves hunting one little Hobbit. He wouldn't last the night. Shuddering at the thought, Pippin hunkered down. Maybe he could wait it out until the night was over. Then he could find Tauriel and ask for her help. She was a strong warrior. She could easily take the Dwarves down without a hitch.

"_You don't have to run,"_ said a familiar voice in his head. Pippin raised his face from his arms. Across from him, on the roof, stood a familiar figure. His brown coat swirled around his ankles. He watched Pippin with a pitying look. _"They'll find you at some point. It's pointless to run."_ Pippin had never had someone direct their thoughts toward him beside Merry. No one else had really known about his ability besides his family.

"_You'll only make it worse when they find you."_ In the gloom of the rain he could Bilbo lower his head. _"I'm sorry about this."_ Pippin frowned at the words in confusion. The meaning to them came in a flash of images. They bombarded his mind's eye and refused to stop. Pippin clapped his hands helplessly over his ears. His mouth fell open in a scream. And still the images continued.

"_Scream! – Where it come from – Need to find – Someone hurting – Kill them – May be Bilbo." _The voices returned, only adding to the pain growing Pippin's scalp. Curling in on himself, Pippin tried to stave off the images. It didn't help one bit. They continued to come and come and come. He saw flying ships, a great Dragon soaring toward him, white-pointed teeth, tumbling through the air, Barrow-Wights, a gun, Tom Bombadil . . . Pippin whined, wishing it would stop.

"Found him!" someone shouted over his quivering body. Hands patted his arms and stroked his hair. "Havin' a seizure – Can't tell what's happenin'." Pippin flinched away from the touches. The bombardment of images had ripped open his mind's eye and left it bare for all else to reach him. He couldn't stop the flow of words.

"_Could be hurt – Have asthma? – Need Oin! – Wish Oin was here – Need to get up there."_ The last thing Pippin saw before the darkness took him was Richard bending over him, a look of worry in his eyes.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_


	11. Arkenstone Deductions

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good morning!_

_I grace you all with a chapter before I take my online exam for my class. I have ninety minutes to take it and it's thirty questions long. Afterward, I'll try to update._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Arkenstone Deductions<strong>

The air tasted . . . different. It wasn't bitter like the medicine he was used to after an attack. It was sweet, like the blooming flowers of spring or the minerals of the earth after a rainfall. Frodo couldn't quite place it exactly. Perhaps lilac season after a fresh rainfall. Inhaling deeply, the tasted filled his mouth and flooded his lungs. It sent a soothing, tickling sensation down his throat.

A calloused hand pressed gently against Frodo's forehead. It smoothed the fringe of his hair back then moved down to fix something against his face. Moaning softly to himself, Frodo forced his eyes open. Richard the Dwarf hovered over him. A frown wrinkled his brow as he stared at Frodo. Frodo's heart leapt and he tried to scramble backward. Richard darted forward, grabbing him the shoulders and forcing him back down on the mattress.

"Relax," Richard ordered. Frodo breathed hard, aware of something pressing against his lower face. "You need to remain calm." His hand returned to Frodo's forehead, smoothing the hair back like he would a child. "Just relax." Frodo tried to obey but he couldn't force himself to relax in the presence of this Dwarf. Richard was going to sell him on the black market for sure.

"You had an asthma attack," Richard said in a low voice. Frodo narrowed his eyes at the Dwarf, wondering how long it had taken Richard and Graham to notice that. "I spoke with Mark, he says asthma is uncommon amongst Hobbits. We were lucky to find an inhaler in the medical bay. I am surprised we found it so easily. John usually does not leave his area so well organized."

It was then Frodo became fully aware of the mask on his face. It didn't look anything like his own inhaler, but he supposed it was a Dwarf's version. The mask was small and black, covering both his mouth and nose. There were no tubes or machine attached to it. Instead, small bits of technology whirred inside. It sucked in the air from outside through a small vent and sent it through the mask into Frodo's airways. A strap had been buckled at the back of his head.

"I suppose the Shire System does not have such updated equipment," Richard commented, shifting the mask on Frodo's face. "We Dwarves built this machine to initially help in breathing deficiencies caused by the mines. James altered it a bit for you. I had no idea John kept a pouch of medicine on hand, though. That was sheer luck."

"What do you want?" Frodo asked hoarsely. The mask distorted his voice, making it sound slightly mechanical.

"You remind me of a friend of mine," Richard told him. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his hand. Opening it, he revealed the ring nestled in his palm. "We found this in your pocket. This ring belongs to Martin."

"He gave it to me," Frodo said. Richard's eyes snapped up to him. "Seventeen years ago. He sent it with a letter saying he was being chased." Richard's eyes narrowed.

"Did he saw who was chasing him?"

"You," Frodo snapped, and Richard's eyes narrowed further. "He sent me messages this year telling me to run. Then you landed on our moon and started taking Hobbits. Bilbo saved me from Aidan. He saw you were chasing him."

Richard stood and strode away from the bed. Slowly, Frodo sat up and looked around himself. He'd been laid on a Dwarf-sized bed in someone's bedroom. A second bed sat across from his. At the foot of the other bed was a nest of blankets. They looked cold and hopeful, as though waiting for their occupant to return. Frodo's eyes snapped back to Richard when the Dwarf turned around.

"You do not understand the situation," Richard told him sternly with a frown. Frodo's eyes narrowed at him, wondering if the Dwarf was accusing him of something. "We have been chasing Bilbo for seventeen years throughout the universe. Every time we find him or get even a yard within him, he runs. Nothing we say will stop him."

"Why do you think?" Frodo demands. "You're trying to sell him on the black market." Richard's eyebrows shot up his forehead in surprise. "Merry told us. You Dwarves kidnap us so you can sell us on the black market."

"I had heard you Hobbits were ignorant of the world around you, but I had no idea it was this bad."

"What are you talking about?"

"Bilbo Baggins is a member of my crew. He joined seventy-seven years ago when I rescued him from a ringleader of a black market branch. He helped me reclaim my kingdom and remained by my side even when I went insane." Frodo sat back on his mattress, the words echoing through his mind. How could this be true? It didn't match up with how Bilbo acted around the Dwarves. Richard crossed his arms, continuing with his explanation. "We rescued him from the Barrow Downs afterwards and he joined my crew. Seventeen years ago we were doing a job for a client. Everything was going fine, Bilbo was in place, and then . . . he just vanished. We heard a single scream over the frequency before Bilbo cut off. That was the last we heard of him."

"B-But . . . he shot Aidan," Frodo said softly. Richard dropped his arms and nodded solemnly.

"Aidan is my nephew," Richard said. "His real name is Kili. I am Thorin Oakenshield, the captain of _the Arkenstone_. Bilbo evades us at every turn. If he finds himself cornered by one of us, he will take desperate measures to escape. He once stuffed walnuts down my throat just to distract us." Frodo frowned in confusion at the Dwarf. Thorin ducked his head, hiding a smile. "I am extremely allergic to walnuts." Frodo's eyes widened and he couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled past his lips. Thorin seemed to relax at it. "We are not going to sell you on the black market. The Government of the Free Peoples refuses to relinquish their hold on the Shire System. They continue to experiment on your race. We Dwarves have been working for seventy-seven years to slowly rescue you. Every Hobbit we catch is sent to a reservation on Woodland Realm in the Khazad System. There King Thranduil teaches your kind the ways of the world and cares of them like a father."

"How can I trust what you say?" Frodo asked suspiciously. "You could just be saying that to gain my trust." Thorin smiled at him, chuckling.

"If I did not know better, I would have thought Bilbo had raised you. I am telling you the truth. I believe you met Tom Bombadil and Goldberry in the Shire System?" Frodo nodded. "We saved them at the same time we rescued them at the same time as Bilbo. The experiments the Government did on Tom Bombadil drove him insane. He has a slight telepathic ability to locate anyone in the universe, particularly if they call for him. He can teleport in and out of the most dangerous places. Goldberry has the ability to impress emotions on others. She keeps Tom calm by remaining around him. Tom is only as sane as he is today because Goldberry impressed the emotions of love on him. He fell in love with her and has remained under the belief she is his wife for the last seven decades."

"I felt that," Frodo said faintly. "She made me feel safe when we were on the ship."

"Aye, Goldberry keeps Hobbits calm while they bring them to the Dwarves. And then there is this." Thorin reached into his pocket once more and withdrew a small slug. Frodo stared at it curiously. "It is a tracker. The Government injects them into Hobbits' necks when they are born. We removed it while you were unconscious and Bofur disabled it." Frodo's fingers trailed to the back of his neck. He felt the small scar back there, fresh from surgery. "Do you believe me now?"

"I-I don't know."

"I will let you rest," Thorin said with a small bow. "The door will be locked, but Dori will bring in supper when you are ready. Just call for him." Frodo laid back down on the bed, trying to take the information in. He heard the door hiss open then closed. Reaching down, he pulled the blankets over himself. He needed a nap.

O.o.O

Thorin pressed the panel beside the door to lock it then turned away. Dwalin stood at the other end of the hall. He leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed.

"How's he feeling?" the warrior asked.

"Confused," Thorin told his friend. He made his way down the hall. "He is having trouble accepting the truth."

"Did you tell him about Bilbo?"

"Aye." Thorin and Dwalin seated themselves at the dining table. Normally there would have been one other Dwarf with them. He would have given Thorin advice and Dwain exasperated look. Balin hadn't been there for nearly fourteen years, though. Not since he'd gone with Oin and Ori to the Mines of Moria.

"How'd he respond to that?"

"He was convinced we were going to sell him on the black market," Thorin said, and Dwalin scowled. "He is just like any other Hobbit, Dwalin. They do not know the truth of the matter."

"I know," Dwalin huffed. "It just frustrates me when we have to say the same thin' over and over again."

"How are the other Hobbits?" Thorin asked. Dwalin leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"They're pretty much the same," he said. "We had to strap the feisty one down in the medical bay. He keeps attackin' us, shoutin' somethin' about a Berilac."

"And the others?"

"Gloin's with the chubby one." Thorin frowned at Dwalin. He'd impressed upon his crew many times about the treatment of Hobbits. They were a tender folk, unused to the raucous way of the dwarves. "The other one . . . he's not doin' so well."

"What do you mean?" Thorin asked immediately. Dwalin scratched his chin, looking for a way to explain it.

"He woke up a couple minutes ago. Bofur and Nori were with him. He started wailin', hasn't stopped since. It's like he's in pain." Thorin was out of his seat before his friend had finished speaking.

Hurrying down the sleeping quarters' hallway, he unlocked the Ri Brothers' door. It slid open to reveal Bofur and Nori bent over a trembling mass of blankets. Sobs carried up through fabric. It wrenched Thorin's heart, reminding him of a similar situation seventy-seven years ago. Nori looked up at his arrival with a strained expression.

"We can't find out what's wrong with him," he said. "He's not injured."

"Move," Thorin ordered. The two Dwarves stepped back obediently as he strode forward. Crouching beside the bed, he lifted the corner of the blankets. The smallest Hobbit of the quarter laid there shivering. He had his ears over his ears, as though trying to block something. He didn't look any better than when Bofur had found him on the roof.

"Leave us," Thorin said softly.

"We should stay," Bofur argued, but Nori grabbed him by the back of his jacket and dragged him backward. "Nori! What are ya doin'?"

"Listening to Captain Tight Pants." Their voices faded away as the door hissed shut after them.

Rising slowly, Thorin seated himself on the bed. He threw back the layers of blankets. The Hobbit didn't react, only whining and curling in on himself. Thorin reached down and wrapped his arms around the Hobbit, dragging him into his lap. The Hobbit whimpered.

"Hush," Thorin said, wrapping an arm around the Hobbit's shoulders. "It will be all right."

"Merry," the Hobbit whimpered. Thorin frowned, wondering who Merry was. "Friend. Cousin. Keeper." Thorin's eyebrows raised up.

"_What is your name?"_ he thought to himself.

"Pip," the Hobbit said before sobbing into Thorin's chest. "It's loud. Make it stop."

Realization dawned on Thorin. He'd met several experiments from the Government during his chase for Bilbo. Some were attempts at quick healing while the others were nothing more than tests to see if they could prolong life. He'd met a few Hobbits who could read bare ideas or emotions. They'd been tests to discover the ability of telepathy. Never before had he met one with such a strong ability. This small Hobbit, Pip, must have been in agony if he couldn't control his ability. There were ten Dwarves on this ship and three Hobbits. It would explain his pained attack on the rooftops in Bree.

"You're a Reader," Thorin said more to himself than the Hobbit. Pip whined and curled tighter against him. His nails dragged against his scalp, drawing red lines. Standing from his bed, Thorin hurried toward the door. It hissed open and he found Nori and Bofur blissfully waiting for him.

"Thorin," Bofur said, straightening up. His eyes flicked immediately to Pip. "How is he?"

"He is a Reader," Thorin said immediately. Nori raised his eyebrows in surprise and Bofur made small noise in the back of his throat. "His ability is stronger than others I have met. He cannot stop it."

"I'll get the drugs," Nori said immediately. He hurried down the hall toward the medical bay.

"Yer not goin' ta dope him, are ya?" Bofur asked nervously.

"No," Thorin said with a shake of his head. "Oin made a concoction several years ago to dull telepathic abilities. It was the only way we could make Tom listen to us when we talked."

"Right," Bofur said, wringing his hands. "H-How're the others?"

A furious scream echoed down the hall. Both Thorin and Bofur turned to see Nori emerging from the medical bay. The thief shouted back insults in rough Khuzdul.

"Charmin'," Bofur said as an annoyed Nori made his way down toward them.

"He doesn't shut up," Nori said. He removed the cover of a syringe and pressed the plunger down slightly to release any air bubbles. "I don't think he liked me knocking him out."

"Ya suffocated him, Nori!"

"That doesn't mean he has to bit me," Nori said sourly. Pulling one of Pip's hands away, he injected the contents of the syringe into the Hobbit's neck. The Hobbit whimpered and Thorin tightened his hold. The drugs would numb the effects of his ability and soon he would be lucid.

"Suff-o-cated!"

"So?" Thorin could only shake his head as he turned back into the bedroom. He clutched the Hobbit close to his chest. He didn't know why, but he had a sense of responsibility toward this young Hobbit. He needed to protect him.

O.o.O

Kili was still sour about the whole ordeal. Fili couldn't have found it any funnier. They sat together in the quiet cockpit, Fili in the pilot's seat and Kili in the copilot's seat. They had helped their uncle with the search for the last Hobbit the night before, finding him writhing in pain on the rooftop of a building.

"Why would Bilbo Tase me, though?" Kili asked for the seventh time. Fili snorted and turned a dial, ignoring his brother's complaints. "We're friends."

"Bilbo's been running from us for seventeen years," Fili pointed out. "It's not like he's just going to give up. I chased him all the way down to the Party Tree before he just up and disappeared."

"At least he didn't Tase you."

"Tell you what, when we find Bilbo you can ask him why he did it." Kili shot his brother a filthy look. "It's not the first time Bilbo's done something like this. Remember when he bit Dwalin on the neck? Dwalin wasn't the same for a week."

"It's not the same," Kili muttered, crossing his arms. "He hasn't electrocuted you yet."

"No, he just dumped me in a tank of sharks and let me fend for myself. Need I show you the scars on my legs?"

"Getting electrocuted hurts!"

"I was bleeding, Kili. Those sharks thought it was feeding time. You want pain? Try having fifteen rows of teeth sink into your legs. I had to wait for Bifur and Dori to get me out of the tank."

"Why would Bilbo have even gone to an aquarium on Minas Tirith?" Kili wondered aloud. "I wonder what he's up to."

"We'll never know until we catch him," Fili said. A monitor to his left ran suddenly and he straightened up. Leaning over, he frowned.

"What is it?" Kili asked.

"The cargo bay's door is open," Fili said. Kili stood from his seat. "The camera's down. Someone's blocking it."

"Should we get Thorin?"

"Nah, it's probably just Tauriel. She always liked grand entrances. Get your sword, we're checking this out." Kili reached under the console of the copilot's seat and grabbed his sword from the floor. Fili grabbed his own, strapping them to his back.

The brothers made their way out of the cockpit and down the stairs. They skirted around the dining table before sneaking their way down the stairs to the cargo bay. Fili went first, both his swords at the ready. He moved with slow, careful steps, trying to be quiet. He didn't know who was down there. They could be dangerous for all he knew.

Fili paused at the small landing of the stairs. Kili stopped behind him, pressing himself against the wall. It was here that the stairs turned toward the cargo bay. Thorin usually used this spot as a shouting point during Bilbo's temper tantrums. It protected him from any flying objects while at the same projecting his voice. Something shifted on the floor below.

"Get ready," Fili whispered over his shoulder. Behind him, Kili nodded and shifted his grip on his sword. Fili crouched, preparing himself for what came next.

A single boot appeared in his line of vision. Fili gave a shout of Khuzdul and leapt forward, Kili hot on his heels. Someone yelped as the two Dwarves collided with them. Kili knocked the legs out from under him while Fili threw his weight against the man's chest. It sent them skidding down the stairs back to the gangway. They landed hard on the grated floor. Knees pressing into the man's shoulders, Fili lowered his swords to the man's throat.

"Who are you?" he growled. "And why are you here?"

"You should know me, Fee," laughed a familiar voice. Fili's eyes widened. The green hood fell back to reveal a familiar laughing face. The last time Fili had seen it, the man had been ten years old. He stared up at Fili with twinkling gray eyes.

"Estel?" Fili said in disbelief. Kili made a choking sound behind him. Estel laughed again, his shoulders shaking. "You're . . . old."

"You should be talking," Estel told him. "What are you, one hundred and sixty?"

"Fifty-nine," Fili retorted. "What about you? Ninety?"

"Eighty-seven," Estel said. "Will you let me up now?" Fili did so, sheathing his sword. Estel stood from the floor and brushed his pants off. Kili tackled him a hug. Estel laughed again, returning it with gusto.

"What's goin' on down here?" Dwalin shouted as he made his way down the stairs. He paused at the landing, staring at Estel suspiciously. "Who's this?"

"It's Estel," Kili said happily. "From Rivendell. You remember him, he's the little boy we played with all the time. He was always annoying Bilbo." Estel chuckled, ruffling Kili's hair. Dwalin continued to glare suspiciously but dropped his defensive stance.

"I go by Strider now," Estel told Fili and Kili. "Tauriel came to find me in the forest. She said Merry and Pippin were looking for me. They had two other Hobbits with them. I tracked them here after I saw Dwalin with one of them." Dwalin shifted uncomfortably, scratching his beard. "Are they here?"

"Aye," Dwalin said. "We've got them separated. They weren't too happy when they woke up."

"What about Bilbo's ring?" Estel asked urgently. "Did one of them have Bilbo's ring?"

"I think so," Fili said. "Why do you ask?"

"Because that is no mere trinket he is carrying."

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I hope you all remembered Estel from Rivendell. I honestly didn't think he'd ever appear again until I decided to write these stories. Due to the Dwarves and him having separate lives (AKA, Estel wandering all over the place) the crew hasn't seen him in over seventy-seven years. That's no to say Bilbo hasn't, though. ;) Trust me when I say there' s a reason for Bilbo causing so much trouble._

_In case you didn't notice, Pippin has an ability! You'll learn more about it in the next chapter._

_Um . . . Tom Bombadil and Goldberry were the two Hobbits the crew rescued from the Barrow Downs. I had to change them up a bit to fit my story._

_I suppose I should tell you all: I have a pathological fear of sharks. Why I decided to write that Fili fell in a shark tank is beyond me. I was seriously scared when I googled how many rows of teeth sharks have. I thought I was going to get a whole bunch of terrifying pictures. Also, I learned a few months ago that they don't have the ability to make sounds. Just great. The thing I fear the most can sneak up on me._


	12. Table Talk

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good afternoon!_

_All right, A LOT of explanations in this part. But we take off in the next chapter and things should settle down there. Please forgive all . . . extreme circumstances. Adapting Lord of the Rings to Firefly is harder than the Hobbit was._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Table Talk<strong>

Thorin didn't know which he hated more: a Man nearly three times younger than him was telling him what to do, or someone twice his height had seized control of his ship. Either way, Estel took complete control of the situation. He ordered the crew of Dwarves to bring the Hobbits out to the dining area. Bombur cooked up a large meal and presented it to the four small creatures with a warm smile. The youngest dug in heartily while the other three remained suspicious.

"How do we know we can trust you?" one of the Hobbits demanded, his arms crossed. Estel looked up from his pipe where he leaned against a wall. Thorin cast a curious eye his way. "You weren't there to save us from the Dwarves when they kidnapped us. How do we know you're not working with them?"

"I am working with them, Master Hobbit," Estel said, and the Hobbit flushed brightly. "But not in the way you think. Had I known they were after you, I would not have allowed them to take such unorthodox measures."

"Unorthodox?" Nori squawked. Bofur stomped on his foot, had. "Ow!" Thorin sighed hard and pinched his nose. "What was that for?"

"Ya suffocated the poor thin'. Apologize ta him."

"All right, I'm sorry!"

"Not ta me, ta him." Bofur pointed at the fuming Hobbit. Nori turned and gave a low bow.

"I apologize for suffocating you, Master Hobbit," the thief said seriously. Bofur smacked him upside the head. "Ow! I apologized, didn't I?"

"Yer bein' smart again."

"Bofur, Nori," Thorin snapped. The two Dwarves fell silent with sheepish expressions. He turned toward the four Hobbits. "I believe introductions are in order. I am Thorin Oakenshield, the captain of this crew."

"Bilbo said your name was Richard," the youngest Hobbit piped up. Thorin couldn't help the fond smile that fell on his lips. Fili leaned over to whisper to Kili who chuckled knowingly.

"Richard Armitage is an alias," Thorin explained to Pip. "My crew and I use them when we are near Government controlled areas. They allow us a bit of safety. My name is Thorin and these are my nephews, Fili and Kili. They are the pilots of the ship." Fili and Kili waved to the four Hobbits. The chubbiest sent them suspicious glances.

"I'm Bofur," Bofur called with a wave. "Resident engineer and inventor on the ship. This here's my cousin Bifur and brother Bombur. Bif's an engineer with me. Bombur cooks fer us all." Bombur smiled from his place in the kitchen while Bifur nodded seriously. "Don't mind Bif, he was attacked by an Orc couple years ba-ACK!" Bofur yelped when Nori smacked him upside the head.

"Please ignore the idiot genius," Nori said. "I'm Nori, this is my older brother Dori. We're the ambassadors of the ship. I work with the black market while Dori works with the more legal clientele. Our younger brother Ori is off on Moria. He's our navigator." Dori bowed to the four Hobbits who seemed to take his gesture kindly. Something about the Dwarf felt familiar to them,

"I'm Gloin, the accountant of the ship. I make sure the lads don't waste all the money when we need it elsewhere. My brother Oin's the medic. He's with Ori right now on Moria."

"And I'm Dwalin," the warrior finished. "Guard of the ship and second lieutenant to Thorin. My older brother Balin is the first-mate, he led Ori and Oin off to Moria."

"Right, well," Pip said, putting down his fork. "My name's Peregrin Took. Everyone calls me Pippin, though, or Pip. This is my cousin Meriadoc Brandybuck. But you can all call him Merry. And this is Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee."

"Baggins," Fili repeated. "You're from the same family as Bilbo?"

"We're distant cousins," Frodo told him. "My grandfather Fosco was listed as his inheritor when Gandalf brought Bilbo's will to the Shire System."

"So who's this fellow, then?" Sam asked suspiciously, eyeing Estel up and down.

"I go by many names, Master Gamgee," Estel told him. He stowed his pipe away in a pocket. "To the Men of Rohan I am Thorongil, but the Men of Bree call me Strider. The Elves named me Estel. And still others call me Aragorn, my common name."

"You know the Elves?" Pippin asked curiously. Merry remained silent in his chair, his arms crossed. He sent the Dwarves scathing looks, earning himself a confused and hurt expression from Kili.

"I was raised on Rivendell by Lord Elrond," Aragorn said. "They named me Estel. It means _Hope_ in Elvish."

"Bilbo told us to find you," Frodo said. Aragorn looked to him curiously. "He sent us here to Bree and told us to find either Gandalf or you. He gave us a poem to recite to know it was really you." Aragorn smiled and straightened up.

"_All that is gold does not glitter,"_ Aragorn recited, and Frodo nodded. "Bilbo wrote that poem many years ago after he learned about my true heritage."

"And what heritage is that?" Sam demanded.

"You will learn soon enough, Master Gamgee."

"What I want to know," Merry spoke up, not looking up from the table. "Is why these Dwarves kidnapped us in the first place? We were fine on our own. They didn't need to butt in." Thorin straightened up, placing his hands on the back of Pippin's seat.

"Fili and Bofur recognized Frodo from Hobbiton," he explained. Merry glared at him, his eyes narrowing. "Bofur saw you talking to Bilbo before Bilbo escaped from us."

"Why are you chasing Bilbo in the first place?" Merry asked. Thorin and Aragorn looked to each other, each wondering how they were going to explain this.

"You need to understand something about your System," Aragorn told Merry. "It's not a safe place. Many years ago a greedy Man seeking power captured the three races of Hobbits – Stoors, Harfoots, and Fallohides – and experimented on them. After his downfall, the Government of the Free Peoples moved the Hobbits to the Shire System and left them there. They returned many years later and began their own experiments. They have been doing such things ever since."

"Where's the proof in that?" Sam asked.

"You have been traveling with an experiment for the few days," Thorin pointed out. Frodo and Sam frowned at him in confusion but Pippin dropped his head, flushing. Thorin placed comforting hands on the youngest Hobbit's shoulders. "Your friend Peregrin Took here is a Reader. He has the ability to read minds."

"What?" Fili said in disbelief. "How'd you find that out?"

"He read my mind and answered a few questions for me. He was in pain until we gave him a numbing dose," Thorin told his nephews. "His ability has been blocked until the drug wears off."

"You drugged him?" Merry demanded, standing from his chair. Dwalin placed a warning hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off. "You can't just drug him!"

"He was in pain."

"I don't care. That's not your call to make."

"And it is yours?" Thorin asked in a dangerous voice. Placing both hands on Merry's shoulders, Dwalin forced the Hobbit back into the chair. "Peregrin was in pain with the amount of Reading he was doing. He could not stop it himself. I simply helped to quiet it down until the drug wears off. He will have complete control by then."

"You never told us," Frodo said to Pippin who blushed even brighter. "Why not?"

"Mam said to keep it a secret," Pippin said softly. He picked at his food with a fork. "She was the experiment, not me. But it didn't work. She knew if the doctors found out they'd take me away from them. So they hid me away, said I was too sick to play with anyone."

"We met when he was nine," Merry spoke up. "My Mam took me to visit Tuckburough. Pip and I met, and I found out what he was. I could keep him calm when no one else could. So they sent him to live on Buckland with the Brandybucks. We always said he had migraines when the voices were too loud."

"You were lucky to have avoided the Government for so long," Thorin said. "Bilbo was the result of an experiment just like you. He can process information faster than the average person and adapt to new situations. It helps him to learn languages, memorize information, and react quicker. When Bilbo was fifty Gandalf sent him on a ship to the Government. He was to join the talks about shutting down the Hobbit sanctuary."

"Gandalf said he died on that ship," Pippin said. "But that's not what I saw in Bilbo's mind. It was an attack by . . . a spider?"

"Attercop," Bofur said sadly. "He's a ringleader of the Spider gang. The Government hired him ta put Bilbo through an extreme situation. We got in the way and rescued him from the ship."

"And then he helped us rescue Erebor," Kili continued, grinning excitedly at the Hobbits. "He faced Dragons and Orcs and all sorts of horrors. We rescued him from the Barrow Downs after we allowed the Government to catch him."

"The Dwarves began a never-ending war that day," Aragorn said. The Hobbits looked to him curiously. "The first battle became known as the Battle for the Barrow Downs. They distracted the Government ships so Thorin and his crew could sneak onto the Barrow Downs."

"The Day of the Falling Sky," Merry said in a bare whisper. Several of the Dwarves made inquiring sounds. "That's what the Brandybucks call it. The explosions rocked our moons. We heard everything that was happening in the space above."

"We rescued as many Hobbits as we could that day," Thorin told the Hobbits. "But we could not get all of them. After several days of fighting it turned into a standstill. Ever since, the Dwarves have set up an outpost on the edge of the Shire System. They use electromagnetic beams Bofur invented to catch any Hobbit ship that wanders too close to the edge. The Hobbits are then sent to the Woodland Realm for rehabilitation."

"You took my cousin Berilac," Merry told Thorin. "Does that mean he's alive?"

"Alive and safe," Thorin said with a nod. "I can have Kili hail Thranduil to ask after your cousin if that will make you feel better." Merry's arms dropped and he blinked in surprise.

"If Bilbo's part of your crew, then why's he running from you?" Sam asked. Thorin sighed to himself.

"We don't understand it ourselves," Dwalin said. "We were doin' a job for a client on Osgilitah . . ."

O.o.O

_August 5074, Osgiliath, Gondor System_

The markets of Osgiliath were bustling with crowds. Vendors dressed in bright reds and yellows. They waved products and shouted prices ecstatically for all to hear. Shoppers paused at vendors' stations to examine trinkets and clothes. Several women stood idly around, chatting with one another while babes cried on their hips. Ships screamed overhead as they left the airspace to new destinations. Sprinkled throughout the crowds were thirteen Dwarves and a particular Hobbit.

"Bofur," Thorin barked into his microphone. "Are you in position?"

"Aye," Bofur replied. "Everythin' good on this end."

"Client's just called," Nori spoke up from his position down the room. "The shipment's on the way over. Dwalin, Gloin, you ready?"

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Bilbo," Thorin said. "Get ready to duck out." Across the markets, he could see Bilbo nod. The Hobbit was tucked between two vendors stall. A yard of yellow frilly satin hung in his face.

"Roger that, Thorin."

"Got the goods," Dwalin said. "Gloin and I are heading your way."

"Bilbo, duck out." Thorin waited for a reply but none came. The empty sound of faint static reached his ears. "Bilbo, I said to duck out." He waited. Nothing.

Whirling around, Thorin examined the crowds. He spotted Bilbo standing stock still in his place. The Hobbit had wide eyes, one finger pressed to his transmitter. Thorin frowned and repeated the order. Still nothing. It was in that moment Thorin's world came crashing down around him. Bilbo's eyes met his, the Hobbit blinked once, and then bolted.

"Bilbo!" Thorin shouted. His voice was lost in the sea of crowds. Shoving his way forward, he tried to make after Bilbo. The Men of Osgiliath blocked his way, though. He reached for his transmitter. "Nori, Bifur, runner! Bilbo's running!" Nori swore colorfully. Thorin spotted the thief darting past him, navigating the crowds easily.

"Thorin, do we continue?" Dwalin demanded.

"Drop it," Thorin ordered. "Something's spooked Bilbo."

"Bilbo!" Nori's voice carried through the transmitters. Thorin listened with a sinking heart as the commentary continued. "Bilbo, wait! Don't! _Sparrow_, don't you dare! You get back here, you damn ship! You bring him back right now!"

_Sparrow_, Bilbo's _Eagle_, screamed overhead. Thorin whirled, watching its progress through the sky. The mithril sheeting of the ship blinked in the bright sunlight. She was going, going . . . gone. Bilbo had left them for reasons unknown to the crew.

O.o.O

_September 5091, Bree, Outside the Shire System_

"We haven't heard from him since," Nori said softly, leaning against a wall. Bofur's shoulder drooped. Even his hat seemed upset. "We chased him all throughout the universe. Every time we find him, though, he escapes."

"In all seventeen years we've only received one clue," Gloin said. "Moria. Bilbo called us with that single word one day. Balin and Oin offered to go. Ori went with them as an acting navigator. We haven't heard from them since."

"Bilbo made it out to seem like you were the bad guys," Sam said with a frown. "Why'd he do something like that if he's part of your crew?"

"We will never know until we ask him," Thorin said. "We almost had him on Hobbiton when he Tased Kili." His younger nephew scowled at the memory. "It is not the first time he has attacked us to escape. When Bilbo does not want to be somewhere, he will use any means to avoid it. Now, I believe it is your turn for an explanation. What are you doing outside of the Shire System?" he asked. Merry, Pippin, and Sam looked to Frodo.

"Seventeen years ago I came of age," Frodo told Thorin. He proceeded to explain about the gift he'd received, the messages seventeen years later about escaping, Bilbo's visit, the night of their leaving, and their short journey to Bree. Thorin listened intently throughout it, holding himself back from the interruptions.

"_Seven for the Dwarf-Lords in their halls of stone,"_ Fili recited, tugging his beard thoughtfully. "Where have I heard that before?"

"The seats of the Government," Bofur piped up. Several pairs of curious eyes turned to him. "Gandalf told us about it sixty years ago. The original Government of the Free Peoples had three seats fer the Elves, seven fer the Dwarves, and nine fer the Men. And then Sauron tired ta take power. The Elves and four Dwarves left their seats."

"This is where I explain the rest," Aragorn spoke up for the first time in many minutes. "Gandalf called me many months ago and asked me to help him hunt down the creature Gollum. He was investigating Bilbo's ring after a cryptic message from Bilbo. He told me everything he had learned about Sauron. He worried Bilbo's ring might have been the one that once belonged to Sauron himself."

"There's nothing about a ring in the histories," Dori said in confusion.

"If you look deep enough, there is," Aragorn told him. "Sauron had years of information stored away on various computers. None held the same information except for a single external drive: a gold ring he himself created. It holds every battle plan, experiment, and idea Sauron ever had. With it, he could conquer the universe."

"But the ring always made Bilbo invisible," Fili said, frowning. "That's all it ever did."

"It bit me once," Bofur spoke up. All attention turned to him. "I put the ring on and it bit me."

"Who has the ring now?" Aragorn asked. Thorin procured the ring from his pocket, tossing it onto the table. It sat there glistening in the light. "Gandalf found some texts from the early days of Gondor. They spoke about the ring being filled with a chemical. It reproduces itself and causes the body's DNA to blend in with its surroundings. Gandalf believed Sauron created this as a cover for the ring. None of us have any way to access any of the information, but we can use the ring to turn invisible."

"Then what's so important about the ring?" Sam asked. "I don't get it. You said Sauron died."

"We were wrong," Aragorn said. "The White Council traveled to Dol Guldur sixty years ago and discovered Sauron had created an Artificial Intelligence of himself. He saved everything he was into a single computer. They managed to drive the AI out of Dol Guldur, but they had no idea what happened to it."

"And now you do?" Pippin asked. Aragorn nodded.

"I have heard rumors from the East. Sauron has taken back his home in the Mordor System. He's breeding Orcs and building ships to begin his war on the universe. Frodo, you said you saw a black figure on Hobbiton." Frodo nodded, his whole body trembling. "That was one of the nine Ring-Wraiths. Once they were the nine Men who presided in the seats of the senate. Like himself, Sauron created AIs of them. What you saw was an android. They are trying to find their master's ring." Silence rang throughout the kitchen. No one spoke for several minutes until Frodo's trembling voice broke it.

"What do we do?"

"We take the ring to Rivendell," Aragorn said. "Lord Elrond can help us and, if we are lucky, Gandalf will be there."

"My crew and I were heading for Rivendell to gather supplies," Thorin spoke up. "We can take you there."

"What about our ship?" Merry asked. "We can't just leave it here."

"Where is it?" Bofur asked. "We could slip it in along with the rest of ours."

"It's the small shuttle out on the tarmac."

"Ya mean the Dwarf shuttle?"

"Yeah, Pip and I found it in a bog years ago filled with these funny machines and fixed it up."

"Are you tellin' me," Dwalin said, his arms falling to his sides. "That the shuttle we sent in as a decoy survived its crash landing?" Merry could only shrug in confusion.

"Bless me." Bofur scratched his head, his hat tipping backward. "Imagine that. Our shuttle returned ta us."

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Castor says Sauron is going to come and kill me because I called his ring "a USB port". Seriously, that's all it is! There's no ring for a burning eye to kill me for that._

_Let's see . . . all questions may be made out below if I missed something important in the chapter above. Bilbo's duties as Martin and Underhill will remain a secret! Because, well, spoilers. ;)_


	13. Cargo Bay Discussions

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_I almost didn't get this chapter posted tonight. I was so tired. I had the first half written, but then the second half wouldn't come out right until I started watching the Fellowship of the Ring. "Each race is bound to this fate." Ugh, I'm not excited about writing the Council of Elrond. That will be long and tedious._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Cargo Bay Discussions<strong>

They left Bree early the next morning. Kili and Bofur worked together to pilot their returned shuttle into its docking port. Both Dwarves had been surprised to discover Merry and Pippin were a tag team of pilot and engineer. Thorin could already tell that was a recipe for disaster. Not to mention Fili and Kili had hit it off with Merry and Pippin. Once he'd received good news of his cousin, Merry had warmed up to the Dwarves. Frodo had fallen quiet, only speaking when someone else spoke to him. Sam had outright refused to have anything to do with the crew. At least until Dori had spoken with him. The cultured Dwarf had carried a long conversation in Hobbitish with Sam about the pros and cons of starting an aqua garden.

Thorin made sure the Hobbits were moved in comfortably along with Aragorn. The Man seemed more willing to spend his time alone, much like Frodo, but would often speak with the rest of the crew about his journeys throughout space. He carried on conversations with Frodo in Sindarin. Thorin was surprised to find the Hobbit spoke the language fluently. He'd apparently taught it to himself in his alone time, which seemed to have been quite a bit.

Once he'd made his rounds, Thorin retreated to the cargo bay of his ship. Some days he would spend his time with his _Eagle_, _Úhúrud_. The ship would sing to itself while he carried on a conversation quietly with it. Occasionally the ship would answer with a whoop or a coo. In all of their seventy-seven years of being together, the ship had never once allowed Thorin to fly. It still locked handcuffs around his wrists and laughed when he shouted. By now, Thorin had learned just to let it be. The argument was a lost cause.

This was not one of those days where Thorin would spend time with _Úhúrud_. Instead, he sat on a steel box tucked underneath the gangway and polished his weapons. _Orcrist_ had never needed cleaning after any of his battles, but it was a soothing activity. It took Thorin's mind off his hunt for his friend.

It was during the polishing of his knife that it happened. The hair on the back of Thorin's neck prickled. He froze, the whetstone pressed to the blade of the knife. For a moment he sat still and listened. It was there, but just barely. Footsteps pattered almost silently across the grated floor. Thorin smiled to himself and resumed sharpening his stone.

"_I would have thought you would be up in the engine room,"_ he thought aloud, directing his words to the Hobbit behind him. Feet shifted nervously.

"Sorry, I just . . . I got bored."

"_No trouble with that,"_ Thorin thought. _"Did Bofur and Bifur kick you out of the engine room?"_

"No, just bored. You look busy. I'll leave you alone, yeah."

"_Come, sit by me."_ Thorin felt the hesitation more than he heard it. Eventually, Pippin appeared in his peripheral vision. The smallest Hobbit strode with quick steps, as though he half-expected to switch direction at any time. It was a testament to his hyper attitude. Thorin continued to sharpen his knife as Pippin seated himself on the floor across from him.

"Why do you do that?" Pippin asked suddenly. Thorin paused, his eyes flicking up toward the Hobbit. He tried to impress as much wondering at the question as he could. "That. You won't talk to me. You keep thinking things at me."

"Would you rather I spoke?" Thorin asked, resuming the sharpening.

"Not really. You have a lot of things on your mind."

"That is what my sister says," Thorin chuckled. Sitting back on his box, he rested his arms on his knees. "Dis consistently tells me my mouth speaks on its own while my mind continues to wander elsewhere."

"She's right," Pippin said, and Thorin laughed again. "When you talk I can hear all sorts of thoughts going through your head. But when you think . . . it's like you have to focus, yeah."

"_You are a receptive Hobbit,"_ Thorin thought. Pippin grinned. _"You seem untrained in your ability. Have you never found a way to control it?"_ A blush crept to the tips of Pippin's ears. Thorin heard him mutter something about 'lack of discipline'. _"I know of another Reader. She may be willing to help you."_

"Who?" Pippin asked curiously.

"_The Lady of the Wood,"_ Thorin told him. _"Her people call her Galadriel."_

"An Elf," Pippin breathed in disbelief.

"_Aye, she helped to piece Bilbo's mind back together after the Government shattered it. She may be willing to help you."_

"But . . . I'm just a Hobbit." Thorin frowned at the words. "And a Took, at that. Why would an Elf want to help a Took?" Pippin watched him, as though expecting a direct answer. Thorin thought through it for several minutes, wondering how to explain it. Eventually, he realized who he was speaking with.

"Watch," Thorin said, tapping his own forehead. Pippin nodded and shifted, focusing all his attention on the Dwarf before him. Closing his eyes, Thorin thought back to every Hobbit he had seen in the last seventy-seven years. Every experiment he'd met, both the shattered and the healed. He showed Pippin how Thranduil and his people had worked to rehabilitate the Hobbits, how Dain had worked so hard to rescue every Hobbit he could. Most of all, he focused on Bilbo. What Bilbo had been like when they'd found him, how far he'd come in his life, both the ups and downs. Days when Bilbo had laughed with the crew and days when Bilbo'd had a bad time and no one could make him feel better.

When Thorin opened his eyes, he found tears on Pippin's cheeks. The Hobbit brushed them away quickly with a sleeve. Thorin pretended not to notice, instead busying himself with the sheathing his knife and storing his whetstone.

"But, why?" Pippin asked. "I still don't get it." Thorin smiled to himself before returning his attention to Pippin.

"You are a gentle race," he told the Hobbit. "Many of the Elves can remember the Fallohide when they lived together. They would see those days return. The Government has no right to take advantage of you."

"So . . . you're helping because you like us?"

"I suppose you could say that," Thorin said. "You said you were a Took?"

"On my father's side. My mother's a Banks."

"Then you would have known Bilbo's side of the family?"

"I'm from Bilbo's line . . . almost. My great-grandfather and his mother were siblings. Bilbo could've been the Thain of the Shire System if it hadn't been for my father . . . and quite a few other Hobbits."

"I have never quite understood what a Thain is."

"Well, they're supposed to lead our militaries. We have the Thain who rules the Took clan, the Master of Buckland who rules the Brandybucks, and the Mayor of Michel Delving, he's in charge of the White Downs."

"And Bilbo would have been Thain?"

"If he hadn't had so many relatives. My Da is Thain right now." Pippin snorted softly, as though finding something funny. "I've never spent much time in Tuckburough. I left when I was nine to live on Buckland. Merry's all I've ever known."

"Your father abandoned you?" Thorin asked with a frown. Pippin's eyes widened and he straightened up.

"No, he didn't," Pippin said quickly. "He just . . . He didn't know how to handle me. I'm a Reader, like you said. When I was little, I used to spout out everything I heard. My Da was worried someone would learn about what I could do, so he hid me away."

"Your father should have been working to hone your ability, not hiding it," Thorin said in a disapproving voice. "What of Merry?"

"Him? Oh, he's going to be Master of Buckland one day."

"No, I mean how has he helped you? He seems protective when it comes to your ability."

"Merry's always been there for me. Whenever the voices got too loud or I saw too many things, he was right there to help quiet the voices. He can make them stop, too."

"How?"

"When I work on engines," Pippin said, and Thorin frowned. He leaned forward, templing his fingers against his chin. "I don't hear a thing. I have to focus too much, so my ability stops working."

"Interesting," Thorin said softly. "Feel free to visit the engine room whenever you like. You may find it calming, despite Bofur and Bifur's attitudes toward each other."

"They don't like each other very much, yeah?" Pippin asked.

"Bifur was abandoned by his mother to her sister. He took it hard. I believe in some way he blames Bofur for the hardships of his life. Bofur has never taken it the wrong way, though, and continues to stand by his side."

"Wish I had someone like that," Pippin muttered into his arm, and Thorin smiled. Raising an arm, he gestured to the Hobbit. Pippin stood hesitantly from the floor and moved to stand beside him. Thorin tugged him onto his lap, wrapping an arm around Pippin's waist.

"You are not the first Hobbit I have met searching for a family," he told Pippin. "If you wish, you may stay aboard my ship."

"You want a tween on your ship?" Pippin asked in disbelief. Thorin frowned at the word. "I'm only twenty-eight, you know." Thorin couldn't help but laugh at that. For some reason, the idea of a young, irresponsible Hobbit being on his ship was funny. Pippin watched him as though he was crazy for several minutes before he started making annoyed noises in the back of his throat. At the sight of Pippin's ears twitching in aggravation, Thorin laughed even more.

O.o.O

After a rowdy dinner with the Dwarves that evening, Frodo chose to wander throughout the ship rather than return to his room. He found himself meandering lazily, examining the medical bay and dining area, before wandering down the stairs to the cargo bay.

A few of the Dwarves were playing a game between each other. Frodo could see the two pilots, thief, and one of the engineers crouching on the ground. They tossed rubber balls back and forth to each other while chanting something Frodo couldn't quite make out. He watched them curiously for a moment, surprised when Fili dropped his ball. The other three Dwarves leapt at him with a gleeful shout.

"It's called Stoners." Frodo turned to see Aragorn standing behind him. The Man smiled down at him before nodding to the Dwarves below. "The game, they call it Grenade, but it's better known as Stoners."

"What is the point of it?" Frodo asked. He turned back to watch the game. The Dwarves had returned to tossing balls back and forth to each other. Aragorn stepped up beside him, leaning against the railing.

"There is no real reason to the game," Aragorn said. "At least, not one I can see. They just toss the balls back and forth to each other until one of them drops it."

"So it's Hot Potato?" Frodo said, and Aragorn chuckled.

"I suppose it would be. Bilbo played it a lot with them while they were visiting Rivendell."

"Did you know Bilbo very well?" Bofur dropped his ball this time and tried to dive out of the way. The rest of the players leapt on him to form a doggy pile. Bofur's cursing carried up through the large room.

"I met him first when I was only twelve," Aragorn told him. "It was shortly after the Dwarves had rescued him from Attercop's ship. Bilbo was still innocent at the time." He chuckled, looking down at his hands. "I still remember the time we were talking in one of the halls. I was telling him about when Elrohir and Elladan had dared me to eat a can of worms." Frodo's eyebrows raised in surprise and he smiled. "We heard this whistling and clapping come in through the gardens and Bilbo just suddenly left me."

"Where did he go?" Frodo asked. Bofur kicked Nori hard in the thigh before grabbing a ball and chucking it at Kili's head.

"Bifur was calling him," Aragorn explained. "I believe it is a common saying aboard the ship: a whistle and a clap will bring him home. The crew of _the Arkenstone_ will not stop searching for their Child of the Stars. That is what they called Bilbo," Aragorn said at Frodo's confused expression. "It comes from a trick Bilbo pulled on the trolls that tried to eat them. He claimed to be a Child of the Stars; and that if he said the words 'mother, help me', guards would come to his rescue. In a way, the Dwarves are those guards. They have been there with Bilbo through thick and thin."

"Then why would he leave? He had everything here?" Together, Fili and Kili managed to bring Bofur down. A few snoozing _Eagles_ chirped quietly.

"We will never know until Bilbo returns home. He traveled with me for a few days after he left the crew. I had no idea what had happened at the time. I just wandered with him throughout the Rohan System until we split ways."

"What was he like?"

"Paranoid," Aragon said. His fingers wove together. "He was returning to his old ways, seeing enemies at every turn. I could tell something was aggravating him, but he would never say what whenever I asked. By the time we split ways, he'd begun muttering to himself."

"Why would Bilbo be paranoid?" Frodo asked. "He seemed fine when I spoke with him."

"The paranoia was a side effect of the Government's experiment. Bilbo started to see enemies at every corner. He was the first subject who wasn't driven insane by it. Now, though . . . there is something out there that has brought it back." Aragorn fell silent, watching as Bofur rolled under _Skydiver_. Frodo stared at the Man for a second. Finally, he asked the question that had been nagging him at the back of his mind.

"Why do you think Bilbo sent me the ring?" Aragorn looked to him curiously. "He could have sent it to the crew or even you, but he sent it to me instead. Why?"

"I think Bilbo had a plan," Aragorn answered after a moment of thinking. "He must have learned what the ring really was and chose to hide it. You had no idea what it could've been. It was the perfect hiding place."

"Do you think he meant for the black rider to find me?"

"No, I don't think Bilbo would have allowed anything to happen to you. He is quite protective of his kin when he wants. I have seen him beat a Man who dared to speak ill about Kili. Bilbo had a plan for us. For all we know, the universe is his chessboard and we are his pieces." Frodo frowned and turned to watch Fili crawl under the ships as he hunted for Bofur. If this really was a chessboard, then what part did he play? Would he be the black king? A white knight? Or was he nothing more than a pawn? What was Bilbo's big plan for them?

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_If you ever get bored and you're watching Lord of the Rings, do this. Mute the scene of the Council of Elrond and play "Nyan Cat" while everyone talks. It's seriously hilarious. Or that could just be me._

_Does everyone remember the game Stoners? :D_

"_Boulders rolling down the hill,_

_Pebbles falling round you all,_

_These stones they could kill,_

_Better run and start the call."_

"_Stoners, stoners, see them coming?_

_Little Goblins playing their games,_

_The boulders fall with great rumbling,_

_Stoners, stoners, they're to blame."_

_Ah, how I missed that game. Anyway, off to bed now! I work late tomorrow, so I could possibly get a chapter posted tomorrow morning._


	14. Medical Bay Emergencies

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good morning!_

_I give you all a chapter before I go off to work. I did my research for it and read WebMD to get the information I needed. If something isn't right, let me know! It took me quite a while to think up this idea._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Medical Bay Emergencies<strong>

The next day found the four Hobbits in the cargo bay with Thorin, Dwalin, Bofur, and Aragorn. The captain of _the Arkenstone_ had decided the Hobbits needed to know how to handle a sword, as their race was too peaceful for their own good. No amount of arguing on Sam's part had swayed Thorin's decision. Until he and Dwalin had started sparring. What started out as a lesson quickly turned into a competition between the two. They swung, dodged, parried, and turned the entire cargo bay into their battle ground. The _Eagles_, in particular, didn't seem to enjoy being scaled like mountains.

"Not bad," Merry said around a mouthful of jerky. Frodo glanced up in time to see Thorin flip backward off _Mockingbird_, Nori's ship. "They could do with a bit more style, though."

"What do you know about swords?" Sam snapped. Aragorn chuckled from his seat against the wall, an unlit pipe between his teeth. "You've never even held one."

"Looks easy enough," Merry said. "What about you, Sam? Never thought of holding one?"

"I'm not made for swords," Sam answered. "Me and the Gaffer are better made for garden shovels and hoes."

"Mm, have to agree with him," Pippin piped up. Sam glared at him. "Can't see a lick of warrior in him."

"Do you have to read my mind?" Sam demanded. Pippin's lower lip jutted out in a pout.

"I can't help it. You're the one who shouts."

"I'm not shouting!"

"Now you are."

"Sam," Frodo laughed. "Don't let them rile you up. You know Pippin likes to do that." Sam shifted on the floor, grumbling to himself. Thorin and Dwalin charged past them. _Keeper_, as Frodo had learned one of the axes was called, struck _Orcrist_ hard. The metal screeched against each other as the two weapons were forced against each other by their owners.

"You don't have the guts to do it," Dwalin snarled into his captain's face. Thorin grimaced, his mouth set in a straight line, and managed to land a kick in the warrior's stomach. It sent Dwalin stumbling back. The taller Dwarf caught himself, swung both his axes backward, and threw himself at Thorin. _Orcrist_ had just been raised to defend Thorin when Fili's voice squawked through the cargo bay.

"Thorin! You better get up here!"

"Always yelling my name," Thorin groaned, sidestepping Dwalin and lowering his sword. The warrior rolled himself out of a hard landing on his back. Pippin's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Someone's hailing us," Fili called through the intercom.

"Is it the Government?" Thorin shouted back.

"Doesn't look like it. Kili, stop pushing that button! Sorry, no it's not the Government."

"Then ignore it."

"But it's from Rivendell," Fili answered. "_Kili, stop it!_" Pippin snorted before slapping a hand over his mouth. "Someone named . . . Glorfindel." Aragorn bolted up from his seat on the ground, a grin plastered on his face. Thorin didn't miss the look as he sheathed his sword.

"You know him?" the captain asked.

"He is a friend of mine from Rivendell," Aragorn answered. "We have traveled together for quite some time."

"Very well," Thorin said before turning back to the intercom. "Hail Glorfindel. Invite him onto the ship."

"Aye, aye, captain! KILI, PUT THAT DOWN!" Pippin howled with laughter, falling back on the floor. Thorin sent him a fond smile. Frodo watched the Dwarf captain curiously for a moment before yawning.

"Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Just tired," Frodo told his friend. "I think I'm going to go take a nap."

"All right, call us if you need anything."

"I'll be fine, Sam. We're surrounded by Dwarf warriors. What could possibly happen?"

Sam pursed his lips but didn't say anything. Clapping him on the shoulder, Frodo made his way up the stairs of the cargo bay and to the second levels. In the kitchen, Dori greeted him glumly. Nori sat in a chair before his older brother, his arms crossed. The thief wiggled his fingers in a hello before Dori returned to scolding him. Frodo shook his head, chuckling quietly to himself, and retreated to Dwalin's room in the sleep quarters. He had been assigned it by Thorin to share with the warrior during their stay.

O.o.O

_Ba-ding . . . ba-ding . . . ba-ding . . ._ Bifur glanced up from cleaning the head of his boar spear. One of the few screens in the engine room flickered blue with a new message. Standing, the engineer strode over to investigate.

_Unknown substance detected._ Bifur frowned at the message. His cousin had chosen to install a purifying filter in the engine after the incidence in the Mirkwood airspace seventy-seven years ago. The filter should have done its job instead of prompting Bifur to run a scan.

_Evaluate substance_. Bifur typed the order into the computer. The screen flashed blue twice before proceeding to obey the order. The process took nearly twenty minutes. Bifur returned to cleaning his boar spear until the computer dinged again. A quick look made his frown deepen even more.

_Quercus__, __Fraxinus__, __Acer__, and __Sequoiadendron__. _Pollen. The filter was detecting pollen. Bifur cocked his head in confusion. How had pollen gotten into their machine when they were in outer space?

O.o.O

"Who is this Glorfindel?" Thorin asked Aragorn as they waited for the cargo bay doors to open.

"He is an Elf-Lord of the house of Elrond," Aragorn explained to the captain. "He fought in the battle against Sauron. He's particular well-known for driving back the Witch-King of Angmar."

"Who's that?" Merry asked. Pippin, apparently already having heard the answer, shuddered. Aragorn spared a glance for the Hobbit over his shoulder.

"He is the leader of the Nazgûl," he explained. "The Ring-Wraiths. Sauron assigned him as his first lieutenant when the Witch-King was the first to side with him." Pippin shuddered again, earning himself a worried look from Thorin.

The tall stabilizer doors slid open at that moment, stopping all conversation. A slender ship shaped like an arrowhead lowered to the ground. Her engines cut off and the cockpit's hood hissed back, sliding against the roof of the ship.

"That's no _Starlight_," Dwalin growled, an impressed note in his voice.

"No, it's not," Aragorn agreed as a tall Elf swung himself out of the ship. "Elrond's sons designed a new ship. They are called _Starchilds_." Bofur, Thorin, and Dwalin shared knowing looks. Even Pippin seemed to know what was going on.

"_Starchilds_?" Sam repeated. "Why would they name a ship design something like that?"

"It's our nickname fer Bilbo," Bofur explained. "We call him our Child of the Stars. I'll tell ya the story later." Sam nodded, a suspicious look in his eyes.

"Hail, Thorin, King Under the Mountain," Glorfindel said as he strode towards the group. Merry choked on a piece of jerky, Pippin thumping him hard on the back.

"King?" Sam repeated in a soft voice.

"Hail, Glorfindel, Elf-Lord of the house of Elrond," Thorin greeted. He and the Elf bowed low to each other. Glorfindel was over twice as tall Thorin with long, golden hair. His eyes held a sort of joy in them mixed with wisdom and a fearless twinkle. He smiled at the Dwarves when they bowed in greeting and laughed at the sight of the Hobbits.

"Glorfindel," Aragorn said fondly, embracing his friend in a hug. "What brings you all the way out here?"

"Lord Elrond sent me," Glorfindel told him, drawing out of the embrace. "There are urgent matters back on Rivendell and he needs you. Arwen would have come, but her father needed her."

"We are making our way there," Thorin said with crossed arms. Glorfindel turned to face him, his young face lit up with joy. "It will only take us another day to reach the planet. Elrond can wait."

"I am afraid it is far more urgent than you understand," Glorfindel said to the Dwarf. Thorin frowned at the serious tone in the Elf's voice. "Lady Galadriel received a message from Gandalf nearly two days ago. She could not tell Lord Elrond about it until she herself understood it."

"What was the message?" Aragorn asked.

"The nine have left Minas Morgul in the Mordor System," Glorfindel said. All signs of laughter and joy fled from his face. "They have begun their hunt."

"_Mother's crying find her child,"_ Aragorn whispered, a note of horror in his voice.

"What are ya talkin' about?" Bofur asked in confusion.

"It was a prophecy of Lord Elrond," Glorfindel said before Aragorn could speak. "He spoke it nearly thirty-two years ago.

"_Mother's crying find her child,_

_The guards are searching, all the while,_

_The beast is knocking at the door,_

_He's begun the hunt of the four."_

"What does that mean?" Bofur asked, his confusion growing. Pippin frowned at the floor. His eyes flicked back and forth as though focusing on something else.

"At the time Elrond didn't know," Aragorn said. "Now it makes sense. The beast is obviously Sauron and the four . . ." His eyes trailed over to the Hobbits. "He foresaw this happening."

"I only see three Hobbits," Glorfindel commented. "Is there another?"

"Mr. Frodo went to take a nap," Sam told him. He wore the same dazed expression he had when he'd seen Tauriel. "He said he was tired."

Thorin was prepared to shrug the information off – Bilbo had been known to take a lot of naps – when he noticed Pippin's face. The tween was staring intently at the floor. His brow had furrowed and his eyes held a distant look. It was a look Thorin had started to recognize as Pippin "Reading" expression. Moving forward slowly, Thorin bent down slightly to catch Pippin's attention. The Hobbit looked up at him.

"Peregrin," he said in his deep voice. "What is it?" Pippin frowned, his lips forming a single word. "Is something wrong?"

"Frodo," Pippin whispered.

Thorin's heart pounded against his chest. Pippin had spoken in the exact same voice Bilbo had all those years ago when he'd first heard the Orc ship nearing their own. It meant trouble, someone was hurt.

"Dwalin," Thorin barked, throwing himself toward the stairs. "With me. Bofur, get to the medical bay."

"What's goin' on?" Bofur called back, even as he followed his captain. Dwalin didn't dare ask question. He just charged up the stairs after Thorin.

"Thorin?" Aragorn's call echoed up through the hall.

Thorin didn't answer either of the questions. He sped up the stairs to the second level of the ship then through the kitchen. Dori and Nori leapt out of their seats in surprise, calling after Thorin with confused words. Dwalin's boots pounded after him all the way down the sleeping quarters' hallway until Thorin skidded to a halt at Dwalin's door. It hissed open at his demand.

"Thorin, what's goin' on?" Dwalin asked, hardly panting after the short run.

Thorin ignored Dwalin, stepping into the room. He paused in the doorway for a split second, his brain processing what he saw before he could react. Frodo laid curled up on the floor, his breaths coming out in wheezing gasps. Each breath sounded like it took every ounce of strength for the Hobbit to draw. His body shuddered with them, a fist clenched against his chest.

"Asthma attack," Thorin said, hurrying to crouch beside Frodo. The Hobbit didn't respond to any of his touches or words. Dwalin knelt on the other side, checking Frodo over for himself.

"His lips've gone blue," the warrior said then swore quietly to himself. "We need to get him to the medical bay."

Thorin had already slipped his arms under Frodo. Cradling the gasping Hobbit his chest, he raced out of the bedroom. Aragorn, Glorfindel, Sam, Merry, and Pippin had gathered in the kitchen. Sam cried out at the sight of Frodo. He would have ran to Thorin if Aragorn hadn't wrapped an arm around him.

"Nori, with me," Thorin barked as he raced down the hall toward the medical bay. "Dori, the Hobbits." Nori's chair tipped backward when the thief charged after Thorin and Dwalin.

"Asthma attack?" Nori asked. The medical bay doors hissed open at their arrival. Bofur stood idly by the bed, his eyes widening when he saw Frodo. Thorin laid the wheezing Hobbit on the table.

"Aye," Dwalin answered for his captain. "We found him collapsed on the floor."

"Bofur," Thorin said. The engineer's eyes snapped up from Frodo. "What do we need?" Thorin asked seriously. He had the bare knowledge of medicine on the field, not home-based problems. He was relying entirely on the genius, praying quietly to himself Bofur had gotten bored one day and read a medical book.

"Uh . . . uh . . ." The engineer wracked his brains.

"Come on, spit it out," Dwalin growled. Frodo twitched, his wheezing growing header, and the move seemed to kick Bofur into action.

"Inhaler's no good," Bofur said with a snap of his fingers. "And we don't have a nebulizer."

"What do we have?" Thorin demanded. Bofur whirled around, ripping drawers open and digging through their contents.

"Uh, we got . . . terbutaline and ventilators," Bofur said, holding a syringe over his shoulder. Dwalin snatched it from him and slipped the protective cover off. "It'll ease the swellin' in his lungs."

"Nori, ventilator," Thorin barked. The thief snatched the face mask and oxygen tank from the cupboard Bofur had just opened. Thorin grabbed it before Nori had even finished turning around. While Dwalin injected Frodo with the terbutaline, Thorin slipped the mask over the Hobbit's face. Nori flipped the switch on the oxygen tank, releasing the air.

Several minutes passed and nothing happened. Thorin waited with baited breath. He could hear Sam shouting in the kitchen. Dori's soothing tones answered. Bofur chewed on his nails nervously.

"Come on," Dwalin muttered. "Work already." Whether by his words or the drugs kicking in, Frodo's breathing eased. The Hobbit relaxed against the table, the tensions bleeding from his body. Thorin sighed in relief. He ran a hand through his hair, whispering every prayer of thanks he could think of.

"Thank Mahal," Bofur muttered. Aragorn appeared in the doorway of the medical bay, Sam hot on his heels.

"Is he all right?" Sam asked breathlessly. Thorin waved the Hobbit forward and Sam hurried to Frodo's side.

"He'll be fine," Dwalin said, patting Sam on the shoulder. "We gave him a dose of . . ." His eyes wandered over to Bofur who muttered an answer distractedly. "Terbutaline. He's breathin' easier now."

Bifur's shout carried through the kitchen. Bofur glanced up and answered with a bark of Khuzdul. His brow furrowed at Bifur's response.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked.

"Bif says there's pollen in the air," Bofur told him. "The purifiers workin' on cleanin' it out."

"Pollen?" Sam choked. "Frodo's allergic to pollen." Thorin looked to Dwalin. He saw the same suspicion his friend's eyes as he had. Was this what had caused the attack.

"How long before the purifier cleans out the air?" Thorin asked. Bifur spoke quickly and he frowned.

"What'd he say?" Sam demanded.

"It will take the better part of the day to filter out the pollen," Thorin answered.

"The oxygen tank only has a few hours," Nori said. "And we don't have another. He wouldn't stand a chance."

"I could take him back to Rivendell." Thorin turned at Glorfindel's offer. "We would reach Imladris in that amount of time. My Lord Elrond would be able to help Frodo." Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dwalin placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We've got no other choice," the warrior growled. "This isn't just a small attack. Your friend could die here if he stays on the ship with the pollen. We need to get him out here." Shoulders drooping, Sam nodded sadly.

"Nori, help me," Thorin ordered. Once more, he scooped Frodo into his arms and lifted him to his chest. Nori grabbed the oxygen tank, following behind his captain.

"It will be all right," Thorin heard Aragorn say to Sam. "We will be there by nightfall."

Merry glanced up from his seat at the table. His eyes widened when he spotted Frodo but he didn't say anything. Thorin hurried through the kitchen, down two flights of stairs, and across the floor of the cargo bay. Glorfindel followed, passing the Dwarves with his long legs. The Elf swung himself into the pilot's seat then turned around, wiggling his fingers.

"Hand me the Hobbit," he said. "I can buckle him into the copilot's seat behind me." Nori pulled himself up onto the _Starchild_'s wing while Thorin handed Frodo up to the Elf. The Hobbit was placed gingerly onto the seat and buckled in. Glorfindel took the oxygen tank from Nori and wedged it between Frodo's knees. Nori leapt nimbly off the wing.

"I will call you when I have reached Rivendell," Glorfindel said, seating himself in the pilot's chair.

He dragged the x-shaped seatbelt across his chest and buckled it. Thorin backed away as the ship's engine came to life. The _Starchild_'s hood slipped forward, locking in place. Glorfindel steered the ship off the floor and into the stabilizing chamber. The ceiling-high doors slid shut with a clang. Thorin watched with a heavy heart as the doors opened once more several minutes later, the chamber void of any ships. He could only hope Frodo would be all right.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I realize it's not a sword to the heart, but I honestly couldn't think of any way in which the Black Riders would sneak onto a ship filled with Dwarves and not be noticed. Then I got the idea before this story for Frodo to have asthma and it all kinda clicked into place . . . I think. Anyway, I read an article on WebMD, hopefully I got my information correct._

_In the book (which I follow just as much as the movie) Glorfindel was the one to find the group. He actually fought in the Battle of Fornost against the Witch-King of Angmar and was the one who foretold the prophecy: no man could kill the Witch-King. His prophecy later came true when a Hobbit and a woman killed him._

_The genus names of the trees are as follows: Oak, Ash, Maple, and Sequoia. I googled to find the most productive trees when it comes to pollen and WebMD (surprise, surprise) gave me this list for allergies._

_I think that's all for now. I'll see if I'm up for writing a chapter tonight._


	15. Ford Escapes

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_Sorry for the late chapter, I was too mentally exhausted after work to write. And then this came to me . . . before bed. I hope you like it_

_I would also like to point out (to my AO3 readers) that I share my account with my twin sister Castor. She is currently writing a story called _An Unexpected Fauntling_. Feel free to check it out, but know now that this is not me writing!_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Ford Escapes<strong>

The rain was still pouring on Bree. It hadn't stopped in the last forty-eight hours. Of course, this wasn't unnatural for the planet. Due to unnatural weather conditions and a poor exposure to sunlight, the planet was nearly always covered in rain. A few anthropologists liked to joke around, nicknaming the planet _Seattle_ or _England_. Tauriel didn't like the rain. It reminded her too much of sorrow and the day her parents had been killed in the Orc attack.

Sloshing through the mud, Tauriel made her way around the Prancing Pony to the dumpsters behind the building. Eleven days she had been doing small jobs for Butterbur and there was still no sign of Gandalf. Tauriel was starting to wonder if the Wizard would ever show himself. Lifting the lid of the trashcan, Tauriel dumped the reeking bags and let the lid slam shut. The job done, she brushed her hands together. She was a warrior Elf. She wasn't used to washing the dishes or taking out the trash. She killed Orcs, hacked into computers, and piloted a ship known as the _Bainrîn_.

_Slosh_. Tauriel froze. The rain pounded against her head. It plastered her long hair to her back and sent chills through her skin. _Slosh_. Footsteps moved through the mud of the roads. Tauriel reached slowly for the knife hidden at her waist. She had surrendered many of her weapons at Butterbur's request, but refused to set aside her concealed weapons. Who knew, she could be attacked at any moment. _Slosh_. And that moment was now.

"_Daro egor gwanno, yrch,_" Tauriel hissed, whirling around. Her dagger, poised to drive into her enemy's heart, came to rest on the tip of Bilbo Baggin's nose. Tauriel froze, her heart turning to ice. Bilbo blinked at her for a second before smiling slyly.

"_Suilad, mellon,_" Bilbo greeted. Gasping, Tauriel dropped her knife. It splashed in the mud. Seventeen years had passed since Tauriel had last seen her little friend. Seventeen years during which she had wondered if he was still alive.

"Bilbo," she whispered, wondering if this was a vision. Bilbo smiled at her. That was when Tauriel noticed the change of clothes. Bilbo wore a simple pair of trousers and a cream collared shirt. An ankle-length, brown coat flapped in the breeze.

"Bilbo," Tauriel said again, and Bilbo nodded. "You are alive."

"I am," Bilbo agreed. Brushing his coat back, he tucked his hands into his pants pockets. "I've been alive for the past seventeen years."

"The crew, they were just here," Tauriel said urgently. "They were looking for you."

"I know. I saw them."

"Why did you not go see them? They have been worried sick." Bilbo chewed his lip and rocked back and forth on his heels. "Bilbo," Tauriel said curiously. "What is the matter with you? I have not seen you this way in many years."

"Extenuating circumstances," Bilbo said with a wave of his hand. "I needed some time away from the crew."

"That is a lie," Tauriel said, crossing her arms. Bilbo ducked his head to hide his smile. "What really happened, Bilbo? Why did you leave the crew all those years ago?" Through the pouring rain, Tauriel saw the way Bilbo looked up at her. His eyes were filled with a heavy guilt and loss.

"Tauriel, there is something you need to understand," the Hobbit said. And there, in the pouring rain, Tauriel heard the full tale. She hung onto every word Bilbo said, her heart pounding with every bit of information she learned. By the end of it Bilbo was near tears. Tauriel fell to her knees and embraced her friend in a hug.

"Oh, _mellon_," she whispered. Bilbo leaned into her comforting touch. "I will do whatever I can to help you."

"You can't tell them," Bilbo told her. "They can't know. I have to fix this on my own."

"Of course," Tauriel said. She drew back from the hug. "But promise me you will see them once more when all is said and done?"

"Naturally," Bilbo said. He wiped a tear from his cheek. His fingers spread mud particles across the pale skin. "Now, there's something I need you to do."

"Anything. Ask it and it shall be done."

"Well, there's this Man from the Gondor System. I need you to keep an eye out for him."

O.o.O

"Heads up!" The apple flew over Fili's head, bounced off a wall, and rolled into the lower levels. Fili didn't even spare it a glance, keeping his gaze focused on the screen before him. "I'm pretty sure Dwalin would kill you for bad reflexes," Kili commented as he stepped into the cockpit.

"Not interested in apples," Fili said distractedly. "Haven't been in over seventy years. You know that."

"You're right, I do," Kili said with a grin. "I just like trying to get you to eat them. It's funny." He fell into the copilot's seat and propped his heels on the console.

"Need I remind you about the oranges in your bed?" Fili asked, and Kili pulled a disgusted face. "Did you talk to Bofur about the engine?"

"Aye, he says there's pollen in the air. He doesn't know how it got in there, but it should be gone in a few hours." Fili grunted noncommittally, keeping his eyes on the screen. It was there. He swore it was. "The Elf who came an hour ago took Frodo with him."

"Why?" Fili asked.

"Apparently he's allergic to pollen – Frodo, not the Elf – and he had an asthma attack. The Elf took Frodo so he'd be . . . are you hearing a word I'm saying?"

"Multitasking," Fili grunted. Spinning his chair around, he tapped a screen to bring up a menu. He flicked through the options, chose _Signature Radar_, and set the limits to the past twenty-four hours. The computer began to spit out radar images, starting with the most recent.

"Then what was I just saying?" Kili asked dubiously.

"Frodo had an asthma attack, Glorfindel took him to Rivendell."

"Who's Glorfindel?"

"The Elf who came visiting."

"How do you know that?"

"Told you, multitasking," Fili said. He flicked through the radar images, scanning each one. "Kili, come here and look at this." His brother obliged, with much grumbling, and bent down to examine the screen.

"What am I looking at?" Kili asked.

"For," Fili corrected. "What are you looking _for_? Now look here." He pulled up a few images and pointed to a distorted group of stars. "The radar doesn't pick up any heat signatures but it does pick up _something_."

"Do you think it's something like the Mirkwood?" Kili asked with a wrinkled nose. "That space scrambles our scanners every time we go in there."

"I don't think so, because when you look here." Fili brought up a particular image, tapping the distorted stars. "This is our ship. The distortion is only a few feet away from the engine, right where the emissions are released. The image is from around the same time the pollen would've gotten into our oxygen."

"Are you saying there's something chasing us?" Kili asked. His eyes flicked worriedly to the windshield then back to Fili.

"More like following. It was waiting for the perfect chance."

"The chance to do what?"

"I don't know," Fili sighed. "But I found this too." This time he brought up the most recent images the computer had found. "This is when Glorfindel leaves our ship. There's his heat signature and there's Frodo's. The distortion moves to follow them, twenty minutes after they leave."

"So it was after Frodo," Kili said. Straightening up, he scratched his chin. He never had been able to grow a beard, thanks to the medical mites keeping him eternally young. "Why would something that's alive but not alive be after Frodo? He's just a Hobbit."

"With a ring," Fili said. Kili frowned at him. "Frodo had Bilbo's ring with him, remember? Estel said it could be Sauron's ring. If that's true then the distortion could have been a Ring-Wraith."

"He _did_ say they're androids," Kili said thoughtfully. "It'd make sense why they wouldn't give off any heat signatures."

"But they wouldn't be able to hide the emissions their ships gave off," Fili added. "That could cause the distortions in the images." The two brothers stared at each for several long moments. Fili saw his fear mirrored in Kili's. The Ring-Wraiths were after Frodo.

"Thorin!" they shouted together. Fili threw himself from the chair, racing out of the cockpit with Kili on his heels. "Thorin!"

O.o.O

A _Starlight_ could have made the flight from _the Arkenstone_ to the Bruinen asteroid belt in at least six hours. Glorfindel's _Starchild_, _Asfaloth_, made it in less than four and a half. The Elf navigated the ship expertly through the many floating rocks and debris of the space between Bree and Rivendell. It had become a bit of a space heap in the recent years of war. Broken down ships were abandoned to the ship-harvesters and vultures of the sky. Sometimes Orcs stole the ships and modified them for their own use.

During the flight, Glorfindel kept most of his attention on the scanners around him. There were no heat signatures to speak of for miles around. The harvesters were being unusually quiet today. Normally Glorfindel was firing them out of his way. But not today. Twisting around, Glorfindel checked on the Hobbit once more. He had been unconscious during most of their ride. There had been a single moment when Glorfindel had thought Frodo would wake up. But then he fell back to sleep. It wasn't the amount of sleeping Frodo was doing, that was expected, it was the sheen of sweat on the Hobbit's forehead. Frodo's body temperature had plummeted in the last half hours, bringing a shiny pallor to his skin. Glorfindel didn't like it.

"_Arkenstone to Asfaloth, come in Asfaloth,"_ an unfamiliar voice carried through the intercom system. _"Arkenstone to Asfaloth. This is pilot Fili speaking."_ Glorfindel grabbed the small mic on the dashboard and spoke into it.

"Arkenstone, this is Glorfindel speaking," the Elf said seriously. Releasing the _speak_ button, he listened. Nothing came for several seconds but static. "I am sorry, but could you repeat that, Arkenstone?"

"_Danger . . . following . . . Ring."_

"You are not coming through clear," Glorfindel said into the mic. "Repeat that one more time." Static filled the intercom system. A few more words were attempted before Aragorn's voice carried through. His single word sent ice through Glorfindel's veins.

"_Nazgûl."_

"Copy that, _Arkenstone_," Glorfindel said in a strained voice. "Nearing the Ford of Bruinen now. Over and out." He hung up the mic before anyone could answer and closed the frequency. Hopefully his message got through clear enough for the crew behind him.

The Bruinen asteroid belt began far away near the Misty Mountains in the Khazad System. From there, it split into two arms. The more southern arm passed down through the Systems and looped around Rivendell, protecting it from invasion on that part. The belts were so infested with dangerously crushing rocks that it was nigh impossible. A ship could only pass through at one point: the Ford of Bruinen.

This was Glorfindel's goal: the Ford of Bruinen. Once he passed through the asteroid belt he would be in Rivendell airspace. The Nazgûl would have no power over either him or Frodo. Concealed unmanned ships could be activated for defense measures against invaders. They had been tucked away between ship-crushing rocks for this very purpose.

A scanner to Glorfindel's left blared an alarm. The Elf spared a single glance for it before turning his attention back to the controls. The scanner had picked up four unknown ships. No weapons had been drawn yet but they were drawing nearer with each minute.

"_Noro lim_," Glorfindel muttered, increasing the speed of his ship. The engine behind him whined in slight protest but remained steady. The _Starchilds_ had been made for this particular purpose: to evade and escape. Just like a certain Hobbit.

More alarms blared. Glorfindel glanced over and his grip tightened on the controls. Three more ships had joined the first four, making seven in all. Seven ships. That could only mean . . . Glorfindel glanced to the left just in time to see a _Horse-Lord_ rocketing toward him. Jerking the controls to the right, he rolled the ship completely over. The engine gave a great screech at that. Glorfindel fell heavily back into the seat, his shoulders aching from the harness. The _Horse-Lord_ made a sharp U-turn and gunned its engines, preparing for another attack. A second _Horse-Lord_ had joined it during Glorfindel's distraction. All nine Nazgûl were present and accounted for.

"I did not fly this far just to lose the Halfling fifteen miles from the Ford," Glorfindel muttered under his breath. Tapping his fingers against the screens, he rerouted all unnecessary energy to the engines.

"_Give up the Halfling, Elf,"_ a croaking voice spoke through the intercom. _"And we will let you live."_

"Perhaps you have never heard the saying," Glorfindel said aloud. His fingers hovered over the final button that would give him the boost of energy he needed to make it to the Ford. "Test an Elf once and they give you their tongue. Test and Elf twice and they give you their sword." The voice hissed over the system angrily. "You tested me once before and I defeated you. I will do it again."

Glorfindel jammed the button down. Several screens flickered to black, dying as their energy sources were rerouted. Lights throughout the cockpit went to black. The whine of the engine grew louder. Glorfindel slammed the controls forward and the ship rocketed toward the Ford of Bruinen. An angry scream echoed through the cockpit. Glorfindel gritted his teeth against the rattling that ran up his arms. The entire ship shuddered with the sheer speed it was being forced under.

Ten miles to go and the nine Nazgûl were converging on his tail. Eight miles, one of the Nazgûl moved ahead of the rest. Glorfindel noticed the charging weapon on the _Horse-Lord_ and manually discharged it with a blast form his own gun. It sent the Nazgûl tumbling back toward its fellows. The move gave Glorfindel a few extra seconds to his head-start. Three miles to go. The Nazgûl were all charging their weapons now, preparing to fire on _Asfaloth_. Glorfindel threw open a com link to the awaiting unmanned ships.

"_Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer._" Blue lights began to twinkle to life amongst the boulders of the Bruinen. "_Rimmo nín Bruinen dan in Ulaer._" Glorfindel crossed through the Ford just as he finished speaking the words. The scanner to his left begin to ring out the amount of new ships it was picking up.

Turning the controls, Glorfindel pulled _Asfaloth_ through a U-turn. The ship came to a stop facing off against the Nazgûl. The servants of Sauron sat on their _Horse-Lords_, not daring to cross the asteroid belt.

"Scared?" Glorfindel asked lightly. "Nothing separates us but a single asteroid belt. Surely the servants of the enemy have not fallen so low?" A hiss was his answer. The head of the Nazgûl urged his ship forward into the wide Ford. Glorfindel watched as three more joined their leader. They had only made it halfway across when Glorfindel barked the single order. "Bruinen!"

The defending ships of the Bruinen came entirely to life. Blue hexagonal lights flickered up the spines of scythe-shaped ships. Their engines released bursts of flame, sending them rocketing forward at unmatched speeds. Plasma weapons deployed on either side of the ship. They locked onto the invading Nazgûl and fired. The liquid fire made contact with the _Horse-Lords_ and immediately began eating away at the metal. The Nazgûl's screams carried through the intercom system to Glorfindel's sensitive ears. He winced but kept his eyes trained on the attack of the Bruinen. The Elvish ships poured over one another, resembling a great wave of sorts, and crashed into eight of the _Horse-Lords_. The last of the enemy drew his ship back away from the Ford before the ships could get to it.

"Perhaps you could use a bit of aid," a new voice said, and Glorfindel smiled at it.

"Always, _Mithrandir._"

Up from behind the final Nazgûl screamed _Gwaihir_. Gandalf was visible through the glass of the windshield. He gave Glorfindel a firm nod before opening fire on the enemy. The final _Horse-Lord _and its pilot lost in a melting mass of metal.

"Well that was all nicely horrifying," Gandalf commented. He piloted _Gwaihir_ through the metal carcasses of the ships and androids, reaching Glorfindel in moments. "It's good to see you made it. I was worried for a moment there."

"Had I known you were following me, I would not have been so worried," Glorfindel laughed. Gandalf chuckled with him. "Where have you been, _Mithrandir_? My Lord Elrond has been searching for you."

"That is a story for later," Gandalf said. "For now I believe you have precious cargo." Glorfindel twisted in his seat to check on Frodo. He'd completely forgotten about the Hobbit in the excitement of the chase. Now, his heart nearly stopped. The Hobbit's face had taken a green tinge to its pale starkness, his eyes flicking to and fro under their lids.

"_Noro lim, Mithrandir!_" Glorfindel cried out, spinning his ship about. "He may not make it!"

.o.

Arwen met them on the tarmac of the landing pad just as Glorfindel had landed _Asfaloth_. The she-Elf hurried across the pavement, her long sleeves billowing out behind her. _Gwaihir_ came in for a swooping landing not far from _Asfaloth_. The hood of the cockpit folded back in panels of mithril and glass to allow Gandalf an exit.

"What happened?" Arwen asked Glorfindel breathlessly. "My father says you activated the Rush."

"I found Estel," Glorfindel told her. He remained standing on the wing of his ship, one eye on Frodo at all times. "He had four Halflings with him. I brought one here after he had an asthma attack. We were chased by the Nazgûl near the Ford."

"The Nazgûl?" Arwen repeated. She turned toward Gandalf as the Wizard approached them. "_Mithrandir_, what is the meaning of this?"

"Danger has returned to the universe once more," Gandalf said in his usual mysterious way. "Find your father. We need his skills in healing. Frodo's life could be in danger." Arwen nodded and, holding her skirts in one hand, fled from the tarmac into the main building. Gandalf turned to Glorfindel, holding his arms up. "Help me with Frodo, Glorfindel. We need to get him inside immediately."

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I really need to stop it with the play on words for the chapters! First it was _Inn Trouble_ and now _Ford Escapes._ Castor's going to kill me when she finds out about this. XD_

_Anyway, I realize the Ford scene is quite a bit, maybe too much, like the book and the movie. But this was one of those scenes where I just couldn't alter it anyway. At least, not that I could see. You should all know me by now! If I don't like how something turned out, change it!_

_Um . . . a peek into Bilbo's secret life. Hope it grabbed your interest. We see that Fili still doesn't like apples. Glorfindel's witty, or just not good at remarks. I really don't know which. And we get closer to the real Big Damn Adventure. Yay!_

_Nighty night, y'all. I have to go convinced two snoring dogs to vacate my bed so I can sleep. Wish me luck!_


	16. Rivendell Awakenings

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N:_ Good afternoon!_

_I had to do homework this morning and then my mom made me help clean the house, so this chapter was a little late. Sorry about that! I looked back at _There and Back Again: Into Space_ and noticed that the two stories match. Frodo wakes up on Rivendell the same chapter Bofur did. What a coincidence!_

_I have come to a conclusion. _Somebody_ likes my story. I know that because people keep reading it. And all the people who usually comment are off in school right now. I know I'll be busy when we go back the week after next. :/_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Rivendell Awakenings<strong>

_September 5158, Minas Tirith, Gondor System_

"Should we pinch him?" Kili asked softly. Fili could only shrug in response. Neither of them knew how to handle this sort of situation.

Every eye was trained on Peregrin Took who, until only moments ago, had been telling the story of the War of the Ring. Ori shifted uncomfortably on his spot. Pippin had fallen silent and was now staring off into the distance, a far-off look in his blind eyes. The crew could only guess he was conversing with Lady Galadriel again in the Valinor System.

"Pippin?" Ori tried asking softly. The name didn't bring any response from the elderly Hobbit. Crawling forward on his knees, Kili tapped Pippin's knee. Still nothing. He shoved it gently, wary of the brittle bones.

"Pip?" Kili said when nothing happened. "Pip? You with us?" Pippin blinked, a faint smile on his lips, but continued to remain deaf to the gathered crew.

"Oi!" Dwalin roared. "Old codger!" That did it. Pippin's head snapped in his direction and his brow furrowed.

"Who are you calling an old codger, grandpa?" the Hobbit demanded, and Dwalin roared with laughter. "You're still forty-nine years older than me, yeah."

"I apologize for my brother," Balin told the offended Hobbit. "But you had spaced out. We were not sure if you were still with us."

"Huh," Pippin said thoughtfully. His fingers wrapped around the handle of his walking stalk. He smiled to himself. "Did I ever tell you how I got my nickname 'Pip'?" The crew shared sad looks with one another. They'd known this was coming, but it still hurt to see the youngest Hobbit of the quartet fade away. He constantly lost his train of thought and would often mutter to himself until speaking up about a random memory.

"You have," Dori told Pippin. "Several times."

"Huh," Pippin said again. He tapped his cane against the ground, perhaps to give him something to do. "What are we doing?"

"You were telling us the story of the War of the Ring," Thorin said gently. "We are writing a book for the new Government. They want to know the full story."

"Bless me, that's a long story. Doesn't it start with yours?"

"I've already written mine," Bilbo said. "Now it's your turn."

"Right, well, I suppose it starts . . ." Pippin trailed off and for a moment Thorin worried he was going begin telling old tales again. Then he noticed the way Pippin's eyes were flicking around the crew. They would pause for a moment on a certain member then move to another. "I've already started the story, yeah?"

"Aye," Balin said. He smiled softly at the elderly Hobbit. "None of us blame you, Peregrin. Just go on with the story."

"Where was I?" Pippin asked. Thorin thought back to the last words the Hobbit at spoken, directing the memory to the Reader. Pippin lit up almost immediately. "Right, so, Glorfindel got through the Ford and destroyed the Ring-Wraiths. Gandalf helped him . . ." He tapped the handle of his cane against his chin as he thought. "We arrived that evening to discover Frodo had been poisoned . . .

O.o.O

_5091, Rivendell, Uncharted Space Outside Shire System_

_Frodo stood in the entrance hall of Bag-End. Everything looked just as he had left it. His coats were still hung up along pegs on the wall. Matching hats had been placed on a shelf above each particular coat. The scarlet rug, handed down through Baggins generations, still held its rich, delicate color. Belladonna Took's glory box still sat in the corner. Everything was in place, but for one thing._

_In the center of the entrance hall was a silver crate slightly longer than the occupant atop it. Bilbo Baggins sat on the crate. The tail of brown coat draped over it, trailing along the floor. The Hobbit in particular seemed distracted by something. Walking slowly around his cousin, Frodo found a wooden crate had been set up before Bilbo. On it was a chessboard with far too many pieces than was normally played with. In his hand, Bilbo held the black king._

"_Bilbo?" Frodo asked hesitantly. Bilbo seemed to snap out of stupor. He looked around curiously before his eyes fell on Frodo. A smile spread across his face._

"_You're alive," Bilbo said. "Thank goodness. I was worried when I discovered the toxin that had been mixed in with the pollen. It reacts to a direct contact with pure oxygen."_

"_What's going on?" Frodo asked, looking about himself. The pictures on the walls were the same as ever. There was even still a coffee stain on the wall from his wreck of a breakfast with Merry and Pippin._

"_I have a friend who owes me a debt," Bilbo told Frodo. "She set up this meeting for me." Frodo looked to him, curious. "You've played your part of the journey. Now comes the decision: will you go on or will you leave the duty to someone else?"_

"_What are you talking about, Bilbo?" Frodo asked. Standing from the crate, Bilbo showed him the black king. "Is this about that ring you gave me?"_

"_It's not 'that ring', Frodo," Bilbo said seriously. "It's _the_ Ring. Treat it with the respect it is owed, not that it deserves any. Perhaps a better saying would be, treat it like a hungry tiger."_

"_Bilbo, you're rambling. What is this about?"_

"_Seventeen years ago I sent you the Ring." Bilbo sighed. "I never meant to bring trouble to you. I only meant for you to keep it until I returned. I had the idea to dispose of the Ring myself. Circumstances have changed now. I need someone else to do it."_

"_Why?" Frodo asked, his confusion growing. "Why did you choose me? Why can't you do it yourself?"_

"_I told you, circumstances," Bilbo answered. "As for why I chose you . . . you reminded me of myself when you were my age. You still do. Seventy-seven years ago I had a choice to make: would I help to reclaim Erebor and save my System or would I stand by and let someone else do it. Now it's your turn. Will you make the right decision when the time comes?"_

"_What decision?"_

"_Will you be the black king and play a game of chess with me?" Bilbo asked, holding up the black king. Frodo took the piece gingerly. "I haven't found one yet. I considered Thorin for a moment, but . . . he has enough on his plate."_

"_Why did you lie about the Dwarves?" Frodo asked his cousin. He wrapped his fingers around the cool chess piece. "They're your friends." Bilbo sighed again._

"_I can't explain it quite yet. He and I have been playing chess for quite some time now. Every move he makes I have to counter and vice versa. Thorin and the rest are just pieces in our game. I didn't want it to be that way. You have to understand, Frodo, I tried to tell Thorin the truth but he got in the way. He came through with his promise."_

"_What promise?" Frodo asked. "Bilbo, you're not making any sense."_

"_One day you'll understand, but that is not today. For today, just know that you have a decision to make." Frodo opened his mouth to demand more answers but a wind came rushing in. Bilbo smiled at him, his hands tucked into his pockets. The brown coat whipped around him._

"_Bilbo!" Frodo shouted, but his voice was lost in the roaring wind. The wall of Bag-End seemed to stretch past him. Bilbo's figure faded away into black shadows. Frodo was filled with the sensation of falling. His limbs were weightless. He would hit the floor any minute now._

Frodo's eyes snapped open and his body jerked. For several seconds he laid on the bed, gasping for breath. He knew the sensation of falling his dreams. It was a nasty wake-up call each time it happened, normally only after Frodo had ridden his hover-bike for too long.

"Bilbo," Frodo whispered in memory. A soft chuckle carried over from his left.

"No, just Gandalf, I'm afraid." Frodo turned his head to see Gandalf seated in a tall, willowy chair. The Wizard looked like he'd seen better days. His beard and hair had recently been wash and brushed, but there was a nasty scratch along his nose.

"Gandalf," Frodo repeated dizzily. Slowly, he sat up. His chest ached with the movement and he pressed a hand to it.

"You'd better take it carefully," Gandalf warned him. "Lord Elrond won't take kindly to you hurting yourself again."

"What happened?" Frodo asked. "I remember going to take a nap. I felt the attack coming but I couldn't get my inhaler."

"Yes, that was the doing of the Nazgûl," Gandalf explained. "One of the Ring-Wraiths was following your ship ever since you left Bree. It injected a mixture of pollen and toxins into the atmosphere conductor of the engine. You collapsed from a severe asthma attack, Thorin gave you the pure oxygen the toxin needed, and your body was poisoned. Glorfindel didn't know about the toxin until he arrived here with you."

"Glorfindel?" Frodo repeated.

"An Elf-Lord of the house of Elrond. It was Lord Elrond who administered the antidote for you. You've been asleep for three days." Frodo laid back on the pillows, taking in the information. "You were muttering in your sleep," Gandalf commented dismissively. "Something about a black king and Bilbo Baggins. What did you dream about?"

"I was talking to Bilbo." Frodo frowned as he tried to remember the now slipping dream. "He said I have a decision to make about the Ring."

"Ah, yes, the Ring," Gandalf said. Drawing a pipe out of his robes, he began to stuff pipeweed into it. "Aragorn told me of how he found you. He believes my suspicions of the Ring are correct. It could be the Ring of the enemy."

"How can we know for sure?" Frodo asked the Wizard. "It could just be any sort of ring."

"There is a test we can do. If it is indeed the one Ring of power then we should be able to place it on any form of technology and it will absorb all the information within. As with any flash drive, the Ring should light up in some way to give us a signal."

"Mr. Frodo!" Both Frodo and Gandalf turned in time to see Sam flying into the room. The younger Hobbit came to a halt at Frodo's bedside and grabbed his hand. "Bless you, you're awake."

"Sam," Frodo said with a grin. "You're here. Where are Merry and Pippin?"

"Playing with Fili and Kili," Sam said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Those four are right trouble makers when they're together. We won't be seeing them at all during our stay here."

"Sam has stayed by your side for all three days," Gandalf commented, chuckling to himself. "Only Bifur scaring him has convinced him to leave you for rest and food."

"I was worried," Sam countered. He turned sad eyes on Frodo. "We all were. Especially when Lord Elrond told us about the poison. I thought you were going to die, Mr. Frodo." Gandalf chuckled again, shaking his head. Sam shot him a glare. "You can't blame me, Mr. Gandalf."

"Of course not," Gandalf said. He stood from his chair with a groan. "I'll leave you two to it, then. Sam can update you on the goings on of Rivendell while I find Lord Elrond." Frodo watched his friend leave, frowning when he noticed the limp in Gandalf's walk. What had happened to cause the Wizard such pain?

O.o.O

"Give it back!" Kili shouted, jumping into the air. He made a swipe at Pippin's foot, missed, and hit the ground in a crumpled state. Thorin watched his nephews with a soft smile. Pippin had stolen one of Kili's many puzzles from the cockpit and had proceeded to climb a tree with it. Not being a good tree-climber himself, Kili was forced to threaten, coerce, and beg for the toy back.

"You're going to have jump higher than that," Pippin said, holding the Rubix cube high in the air. Kili glared at him and jumped again. Another miss. Another hard landing.

"Here, let me try," Fili offered. His younger brother stepped aside. Moving under the tree, Fili bent his knees and leapt high. His hand wrapped easily around a tree branch. He hauled himself upward. Pippin's eyes widened and his mouth formed an _O_. "There's still one Dwarf on Rivendell who knows how to climb tree," Fili grunted through the exertion of a pull-up.

"Get him, Fili," Kili cheered his brother on.

"You can't get what you can't catch, yeah," Pippin said as he climbed higher into the tree. The branches creaked ominously under Fili's weight as the Dwarf continued to follow the Hobbit. "Better stop now while you're ahead."

"Not until I get that box," Fili said.

"It's a Rubix cube," Kili called up. He followed his brother's progress excitedly.

"They're having fun," Aragorn commented. Thorin turned to see the Man striding toward him. Aragorn watched the Dwarves and Hobbit curiously. "I still remember when I used to play capture the flag with them, Bilbo, and the twins."

"Hobbits are mischievous creatures," Thorin said, turning his attention back to his nephews and their new friend. "Left to their own devices, they are destructive when they are bored."

"I'll keep that in mind," Aragorn said. Crossing his arms, he leaned back against a wall. "Still no luck on finding Bilbo?"

"Seventeen years he has evaded us," Thorin said darkly. "I do not believe he is going to surrender himself so easily."

"Where do you suppose he is?"

"In trouble. I have never known Bilbo to do something without reason. If he has evaded us for seventeen years, it has been for reasons he cannot tell us."

"Have you heard anything from Balin, Oin, or Ori?" Aragorn asked.

"Nothing. All our hails have gone unanswered. I am starting to get worried. Dwalin wants to travel to Moria and investigate."

"Bilbo will come back. He always has."

"Indeed," Thorin agreed. He looked up to the Ranger. "You said you spoke with Bilbo shortly after he left us. What was he like?"

"Annoyed," Aragorn answered after a minute. "I could see the paranoia growing in his eyes. I think something, or someone, is hunting him."

"I wish he would leave us more clues than just a word," Thorin said. _Crack!_ Whirling around, Thorin spotted his eldest nephew falling from the tree. Fili landed hard, the air rushing from his lungs, while Pippin cackled with laughter.

"Do you intend to stay for very long?" Aragorn asked the Dwarf captain. Thorin shrugged noncommittally. "Lord Elrond is hosting a council in the coming week of the matter of the Ring. He wants you to be there since you knew Bilbo best."

"You can tell Lord Elrond I will be there," Thorin said, watching as Kili helped Fili to his feet. Pippin proceeded to begin throwing acorns down at them. The brothers shouted back up at the Hobbit in furious Khuzdul. "After the council, my crew and I will leave for the Misty Mountains. Maybe we can find some clues about Bilbo there."

"I wish you all the luck in the world," Aragorn said with a bow. Thorin returned it with a nod of his head then stomped off to drag his nephews back to the ship.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I still feel bad about comparing the Ring of power to a flash drive. It makes it sound so harmless. :/ Oops._

_I'm trying to not make Bilbo out to be a manipulative bastard, because I don't want to hate the character I fell in love with._


	17. Balcony Confessions

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good morning!_

_Sorry I never got any more updates done yesterday. I ended up watching _Snowpiercer_ (good movie, but gory) and then I tried writing a chapter. Tauriel ended up flirting with Aragorn and I can't have that happening. Anyway, here you go!_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Balcony Confessions<strong>

Having never left the Shire System in all his life, Frodo hadn't quite known what to expect of Rivendell. Sam had assured him the Elves were a very nice race, albeit a bit . . . twittering, as he had put it. Sam had always wanted to see the Elves ever since they'd learned about the race in the early years of school. Frodo didn't doubt Sam had expected the Elves to be a bit more regal in their appearance and actions. Instead, they were a laughing race who cooed over the Hobbits.

This wasn't the sort of treatment Frodo was used to. For thirty-eight years of his life he had lived without the comfort of parents. Now, suddenly, there were Elves everywhere asking after his well-being, how he had slept, and if he was finding everything all right. Frodo handled it fairly well the first week, but halfway through the second week he'd ran away from the first Elf he'd seen and straight into the arms of Bofur and Nori. The two Dwarves had accepted his apology for the collision readily enough, laughed over the Elves' attitudes, and then proceeded to drag Frodo off for some Dwarf-culture immersion time. In secret they told him Bilbo had found the Elves the exact same way he did: just a bit too much for a little Hobbit to handle.

Merry and Pippin couldn't have been happier on Rivendell. All their lives they had been known trouble makers to their family members. With Fili and Kili added into the mix, it made it twice the fun. The third week of their stay, Elladan and Elrohir returned home to find their two favorite Dwarves visiting. Naturally, four and two made six trouble makers. Shouts of Sindarin would carry through the halls early in the morning and late at night until Thorin marched a giggling Merry and Pippin to their rooms, Fili and Kili trailing along as they laughed.

Pippin, personally, enjoyed his time around the Elves. For the very first time in his life, he didn't have to hide who he was. The Dwarves accepted his ability with ease and went so far as to refuse to talk around him when they were alone. They claimed it to be about training his ability. He needed to learn to hone and control it before something went wrong. Pippin had only argued with them once before he gave in. At the time, he'd snuck a peek into Nori's memories and seen a horrifying image of Bilbo hanging off a wall. A further investigation told Pippin the older Hobbit had done it to himself, a side effect of the Government's experiment. Pippin accepted the Dwarves' treatment after that. As for the Elves . . . they were all too willing for Pippin to read their minds. In fact, they spent hours at a time with him while he ventured through thousands of years of memories. Several times he found himself smacked across the face by Thorin or Merry because he was gaining a bit of a stoned look. Thorin blamed the Elves. Naturally.

As for the crew of _the Arkenstone_, they hunted. Every minute they didn't spend with Elrond, Gandalf, or Aragorn was spent scouring old maps of Ori's and following empty frequencies for the bare hint of a sign. Each investigation came up empty-handed. Frodo considered telling Thorin about his dream at one point, of what Bilbo had said, but chose different. He figured Bilbo would tell his Dwarf friends when he had the chance. So he left Thorin and his crew to their hunt. Thankfully, where others would have given up, they remained true to their loyal nature and hunted on from the boundaries of Rivendell.

And so the days passed on Rivendell. Frodo spent his time among the many books in the library, the crew of _the Arkenstone_, and with his fellow Hobbits. Gandalf could be spotted wandering the grounds with Elrond or Aragorn. Their heads were nearly always pressed together, their brows furrowed in deep thought. Slowly, the days turned to weeks and October rolled in. Frodo watched as the leaves of the garden began to change to a bright orange and vibrant yellow. The temperatures dropped. Plants drooped in their preparation for the winter months. Before he knew it, October twentieth had come and gone. His stay on Rivendell had lasted nearly a month. And then the visitors began to arrive.

_October 24th 5091, Rivendell, Uncharted Space Outside Shire System_

Before Frodo knew it, the day of the council was near. In fact, it was the very next day. He'd had no more dreams about Bilbo or chessboards. But the previous evening he'd returned to his room to find a black king chess piece on his pillow. There had been no not. There didn't need to. Frodo knew what the chess piece meant. Soon he would have to make his decision. There was just one problem with that: Frodo didn't know what decision that was supposed to be.

Confused with both himself and Bilbo, Frodo sought the solitude of the western balcony. Tucked away from the rest of the building, it overlooked the landing tarmac of Rivendell. Frodo watched as ship after ship flew in from the atmosphere. Some of them were sleek, an Elvish ship, while others were bulkier, a Khazad ship. Frodo hadn't recognized either of the ships, although Gloin had reacted excitedly to the arrival of the Dwarf.

"Kili thought you might be up here." Spinning around, Frodo spotted Tauriel standing at the top of the stairs. She smiled softly at him. "He said you have had a troubled look for the past few weeks." Frodo relaxed, turning back to watch the Elvish ship land.

"What is bothering you?" Tauriel asked as she moved to stand beside him. Frodo wrapped his hand around the black king. He hadn't had the heart to leave it in his room yet. Leaning down, Tauriel leaned on the low railing. "Will you not tell me?"

"It's nothing," Frodo mumbled. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Tauriel watching him carefully. They sat in silence for a few minutes until the Elf reached into her pocket. She opened her palm to show Frodo a black knight. Frodo looked up at the Elf in awe.

"What about now?" Tauriel asked.

"He came to you too?" Frodo said quietly.

"On Bree," Tauriel told him, tucking the chess piece back into her pocket. "He has asked me to do a job for him."

"What sort of job?" Tauriel gave him a mischievous smile. "It's a secret."

"Aye, he has asked me to keep it a secret." Kneeling on the ground, Tauriel turned her attention to the Hobbit. "Now, what has you bothered?" Frodo rolled the black king between his fingers, unsure of how to answer.

"Bilbo told me I have a decision to make," he finally said. Tauriel nodded seriously, urging him to go on. "But I don't know what it is yet. He won't tell me."

"Bilbo has always been a bit secretive," Tauriel admitted. "I believe it is a side-effect of the paranoia. He does not always tell people everything they need to know." Frodo looked up at the Elf curiously. "Bilbo has only told me as much as I needed to know. There are still some things I do not understand. He has promised, though, to tell me everything in the end."

"And you believed him?"

"Of course. Bilbo is my friend. I have known him since we met on the Woodland Realm seventy-seven years ago. Besides," Tauriel said, leaning in with a sly smile. "Among the many friends Bilbo has made over the years, he chose me. How many cousins does he have back in the Shire System?"

"Too many," Frodo said automatically, and Tauriel laughed. "Do you mean he chose me specifically?"

"Perhaps," Tauriel said. "Bilbo chooses carefully when it comes to friends. He would not trust his duties to just anyone." Frodo looked back down to the chess piece. The sun of Rivendell shone against the black surface. "If he has chosen you for an important job then that is an encouraging thought." Closing his hand around the chess piece, Frodo tucked it away in a pocket.

"Did Bilbo send you here to Rivendell for the Council?" Frodo asked the Elf. Tauriel smiled down at him, shifting her legs so she was sitting cross-legged.

"I cannot attend the Council," she said. "Lord Elrond did not extend his invitation to me. I did help him, though. I brought down one of the androids from the Ford and dissected it."

"Like an autopsy?" Frodo frowned when Tauriel laughed again.

"No, _mellon_, I mean I dissected the hard-drive. I am one of the few hackers in the universe who could do that kind of job. Lord Elrond is lucky I was nearby."

"Where did you learn to hack?"

"On the streets. My parents were killed in an Orc attack." Frodo opened his mouth to apologize but Tauriel waved it away. "It has been many years. I no longer mourn for their loss. But the Government hunted me down for what I was doing. I am still considered young to the Elves, so they locked me up in a juvenile detention center each time. By the ninth time, they threatened to send me to the homes."

"Homes?" Frodo repeated in confusion.

"Foster homes," Tauriel reiterated. "They are large Stations that were once built in the Gondor System to house children. They are generally overcrowded and understaffed."

"Did you escape again?"

"No, my Lord Thranduil took me in before the Government could send me away. He raised me for the last three hundred years of my life, teaching me to be a captain. I am afraid I was too much of a trouble maker for him." Frodo huffed a laugh. "I was banished from my home after I helped Bilbo and the crew escape. I have not been home since."

"Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes." Tauriel turned to watch a blond Elf leap nimbly from the ship. "But I see Legolas regularly. He tells me the happenings on the Woodland Realm." The blond Elf, Legolas, looked about himself before his gaze raised to the balcony. Tauriel waved to him and he returned it. "What about you?" Tauriel asked, turning back to Frodo who blinked in confusion. "What is your story?"

"Nothing really," Frodo said with a sigh. "My grandfather was signed on as the inheritor of Bag-End by Bilbo. It passed down through the family. My parents passed away in a ship accident when I was twelve." Tauriel placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"I am sorry," she said. "The loss of family is hard." Frodo nodded, wiping away a tear.

"They sent me to live on Buckland until I was old enough," he continued. "That's where I met Merry and Pippin. When I turned thirty-three I inherited Bag-End. Bilbo sent me a package with a sword, a mithril shirt, and the Ring."

"He entrusted you with their protection," Tauriel said, smiling to Frodo. "That is a very big duty."

"He picked the wrong person," Frodo mumbled. Turning back, he watched another ship lower itself to the tarmac.

"Why do you say that?"

"I have asthma," Frodo told her. "I can't do anything for him."

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone. All my life I've been told to make an easy life for myself." Tauriel watched him curiously before turning her own attention to the landing pad. Frodo didn't miss the way she straightened up at the sight of a burly Man. His chin-length hair hung down around his face and he wore regal armor. "Who's that?"

"Boromir the son of Denethor," Tauriel said softly. "He has come for the Council of Elrond." Frodo watched the Man looked around himself before disappearing under the balcony. "I must go and greet Legolas. I will see you at dinner." Frodo nodded distractedly. Standing, Tauriel disappeared like a ghost down the stairs.

O.o.O

Bofur confronted Frodo outside the dining hall after dinner that night. The be-hatted Dwarf gave him a toothy grin before leading him into a private room.

"Tauriel came ta talk ta me," the Dwarf said, sitting on a chair. Frodo remained standing, unsure of what the Elf had said. "She told me about yer asthma, said she was worried." Frodo's eyes narrowed.

"What does she have to be worried about?" he demanded. "I'm taking care of it fine." Bofur raised his hands peacefully.

"I'm not sayin' yer not," he said. "I'm just sayin' yer System is behind the times. The Elves invented a way ta care fer asthma years ago. It takes away the hassle and danger of havin' an attack." Frodo cocked his head in confusion. "Here, I'll show ya." Digging around in his pockets, Bofur withdrew a small, plastic vial. He handed it to Frodo. Curious, Frodo tipped the vial back and forth. He watched as the small flakes in side drifted around. "It's concentrated terbulatine held within mechanical flakes."

"Why?" Frodo asked.

"Each flake is made with sensors," Bofur explained. "They measure the inflammation levels of yer lung walls and release the medicine when ya need it. It's lowered the asthma attack rate in Men and Dwarves by at least forty percent."

"Do you have to take it every time?"

"Nah, that's the great thin' about these beauties. Each batch has a couple hundred, lon' enough ta last ya a year or so. They're all connected wirelessly so each one knows when another is activatin'. After they've released the medicine, they dissolve inta harmless dust that is then carried off through the blood stream."

"That's amazing," Frodo breathed, looking back to the vial in his hands. "Why don't we have this in the Shire System?" Bofur shrugged sadly.

"Ta keep control of ya," the Dwarf said. "I talked ta Lord Elrond and he gave me a few vials of this stuff. Ya can carry it with ya. All ya have ta do is put this in yer inhaler in the medicine and use it once. The medicine will take effect when it needs ta, but that doesn't mean ya can go runnin' marathons whenever ya want. Ya still need ta slow down when ya feel yer chest tightenin' of if yer wheezin'. The medicine still takes a short while ta kick in." Frodo nodded, tucking the vial away into his vest pocket. Bofur clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll see ya at the Council tomorrow, right?"

"You're going?"

"Well, not me. Thorin's goin' ta the council. I have ta keep an eye on Bif so he doesn't do anything stupid or dangerous like the last time. I wish ya the best of luck, I really do." Frodo smiled thankfully to him. The Dwarf stood from his chair and left the room.

"_Will you make the right decision when the time comes?"_ Frodo's hand drifted back to the pocket with the black king. He still had no idea what that decision was.

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_For once, something Bofur didn't invent! Woot!_

_Council in the next chapter and then the real adventure begins. Yay!_


	18. Council Decisions

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good afternoon!_

_Passengers are asked to exercise their patience on this part of our journey. We aboard _the Arkenstone _realize how boring this part of the story is, but is necessary. Besides, it's not thirty-two pages long._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Council Decisions<strong>

The Council of Elrond convened the next morning after breakfast. Elrond called the thirteen members to a private courtyard on the eastern side of the building. Force fields were projected over exits and windows to ensure no ears could listen in. All fourteen members of the Council were seated in a circle of chairs. In the center of the entire room was a single pedestal. Placed upon the pedestal was Bilbo's Ring.

"Strangers from distant Systems and friends of old," Elrond greeted, standing from his chair. Gandalf nodded. Frodo shifted nervously, aware of the many looks he was receiving from several of the visitors. Legolas in particular kept glancing his way. "I have summoned you all here to answer a threat from the Mordor System." Legolas turned his attention to Lord Elrond, freeing Frodo from his stare. "News has come to us from Bilbo Baggins and Gandalf of the return of the enemy."

"How do we know this is for sure?" Boromir interrupted. Lord Elrond turned a scowl on him. The Man straightened up in his chair. "I know neither of the men you named. Many people before this . . . Bilbo Baggins have claimed the enemy has returned before."

"If you would allow the Elf to continue than we would know the answer by now," Thorin growled out. Boromir scowled at him.

"Who are you? I've never seen you around the Khazad System before."

"Then you're blind," Gloin growled out. "This is Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. He's lived longer than you could imagine and faced more dangerous than you have in your short life." Boromir opened his mouth to counter the insult but Lord Elrond raised a hand.

"Peace, friends," the Elf said. "Boromir is right to be suspicious. Few of you here know Bilbo Baggins. Those who do have faced the trials and terrors that has become his life." Turning to Boromir, he addressed the Man directly. "Bilbo Baggins is a Hobbit from the Shire System. Nearly eighty years ago he was rescued by Thorin Oakenshield and his crew from an experiment. I trust you have heard the truth behind the Shire System?" Boromir nodded once. "Bilbo Baggins was the one to reveal the truth behind the conspiracy. It is thanks to him the System will soon be rescued."

"How does he know about the enemy, then?" Boromir asked. "Where is this Bilbo Baggins to speak for himself?"

"Gone," Thorin said, grabbing Boromir's attention once more. "He has been missing for seventeen years."

"You're trusting the word of a missing Halfling?"

"Call him a Halfling one more time!" Gloin roared, surging from his seat with a raised axe. Gimli and Thorin leapt forward to grab their friend and father before he could attack Boromir. The Man had stood, drawing his long sword from it sheath.

"_Sîdh_!" Elrond shouted over the ruckus. Thorin and Gimli managed to wrestled Gloin back into his seat, his captain confiscating the axe. Boromir returned to his own seat as he sheathed his sword. "Boromir, it may be noted that Hobbits do not appreciate being called Halflings."

"They're not half of anything," Gloin shouted furiously.

"It is true, Bilbo Baggins has been missing for nearly two decades. That is a story for later, though. For now I will recount the history of the enemy. There are some here," the Elf's eyes flicked toward Frodo. "Who have never heard the tale before.

"The Men have never been native to our Systems in this universe," Lord Elrond began to explain. "They come from the Solar System on the arm of the Milky Way, many leagues from our Systems here. The Men of that time were greedy, unaware of what small resources they had. In their greed they exhausted their only planet of its resources. Desperate to save their lives, they sent a shuttle deep into space to search for a habitable planet. It was in this time the Elves were wandering outside our own universe. They came across the shuttle and agreed to help the Earth. Using all our own resources, we transported every human from the Earth to the uninhabited Harad and Rohan Systems. We helped them to set up towns and taught them the ways of life in our universe.

"By the twenty-fourth century they had built their own ships and discovered the Khazad, Shire, and Mordor, and Gondor Systems. Several Men chose to settle down in the Gondor System and they mixed with the native race there, the Numenor. Colonies were built on other planets throughout the Systems: Bree, Archet, Esgaroth. The Men spread throughout our universe. When they saw the battles and separations of the Systems they urged us to form a senate to encourage peace. The three races agreed and so the Government of the Free Peoples were formed. Lady Galadriel, Círdan, and my Lord Gil-galad were chosen as the members of the Elven race. Seven Dwarves and nine Men were asked to preside over the senate for their own races."

"What of the Hobbits?" Gloin asked, breaking the silence. "Why did they have no representatives?"

"There were originally three separate races of the Hobbits," Lord Elrond told him. "The Harfoots, the Fallohides, and the Stoors. When asked, the lesser races denied the chance to have representatives. Instead they placed their trust on Man, Dwarf, and Elf. The Government of the Free Peoples worked tougher in peace for centuries.

"It was in the thirty-seventh century that Sauron stepped forward. He was an assistant to one of the nine Men of the senate. He had seen what the universe was and had his own visions for it. Greedy, he brought his ideas forth to the senate. They initially refused and, when Sauron pressed on, the Elvish representatives left the council. Three of the Dwarves departed and returned to the Khazad System. The Men, though, were persuaded to join forces with Sauron. Using all unorthodox methods of experimentation, Sauron captured unwary Elves and experimented on them, turning them into the Orcs we know today. He learned ways to breed them in mass numbers. It was not long before Sauron dispersed his Orcs to capture every Fallohide, Stoor, and Harfoot in the System. Those he did not capture were killed on the spot.

"His actions did not go unheeded. The Elves and Men rallied together under the banners of Gil-Galad and Elendil." Aragorn shifted noticeably in his seat. "They navigated their ships to the southern System of Mordor. There they marched upon the Station of Barad-dûr. Elendil and Gil-galad's ship was brought down by the hand of Sauron. It was Isildur, the heir of Elendil, who killed Sauron and ended the siege of Barad-dûr."

"What does any of this have to do with a ring?" Boromir asked. Gloin growled under his breath, his hand going toward his missing axe. Frodo swallowed hard. His eyes flicked toward the Ring on the pedestal.

"Sauron was a paranoid Man," Elrond told Boromir. "He rarely kept his all his records in the same place except for a single computer, the One Ring of Power. All his records of experiments, plans for battles, and designs for battle ships are kept on this Ring. When Isildur defeated Sauron, he found the Ring of Power and deemed it an heirloom of his house. He was slain by Orcs in the Gladden Fields in the Khazad System. The Ring fell out of all knowledge to those who remember."

"And this is where I continue the story," Gandalf said, standing from his chair. Elrond returned to his own seat. All eyes turned to the Wizard. "It is a well-known fact the Government found the Hobbits after they defeated Sauron. They moved the Hobbits to the Shire System and left them to thrive on their own. A single group of Stoors escaped their gaze, though. These Stoors made a small home on a planet in the Gladden Fields. One Stoor in particular was a curious lad. He built his own ship and flew out beyond the atmosphere of his own to explore the areas beyond. His name was Sméagol." Frodo frowned at the name, tucking it away for later. "He convinced his cousins to join him occasionally when he went flying. One day he took his cousin Déagol out with him and they explored the ruins of the Numenorian ships throughout the space. It was on Isildur's ship Déagol found the Ring of Power. In his greed and desire to have the ring, Sméagol killed his cousin and took it. He retreated to the Misty Mountains where he has been living ever since."

"The Misty Mountains?" Thorin repeated softly. "Are you saying this Stoor is the very same creature Bilbo swapped riddles with?"

"I am," Gandalf said. "I contacted Aragorn many months ago asking for his help when I received a single clue from Bilbo: _Gollum_. Once Aragorn had managed to track Gollum down, I interrogated him to learn of how he got the Ring. My suspicions were proven correct. The chemicals used to turn the wearer invisible is extremely addictive. Gollum left his safe home on the Misty Mountains to try and steal the Ring back from Bilbo. The enemy caught him while he was wandering on the borders of the Mordor System and tortured him for their own answers. Gollum told them everything he knew about Bilbo Baggins from the Hobbiton moon in the Shire System."

"What did you do with the creature?" Thorin spat out.

"I handed him over to Lord Thranduil," Gandalf told him. "Gollum has seen enough pain I thought it would be good for him."

"Then I am the bearer of bad news," Legolas spoke up. All eyes turned to him and he stood. "My father urged to me to answer Lord Elrond's call when the invitation came so I could bring you the news." Thorin groaned softly to himself. "Gollum escaped our reservations after an Orc attack. We gave him a bit of free reign after he had behaved himself. The Orcs came in the dead of night and attack us unawares."

"Then what are you sitting around for?" Gloin demanded hotly. "Why aren't you out hunting this creature down before he finds Bilbo?"

"Peace, Gloin," Gandalf ordered. "Gollum and Bilbo are of the same race. If they do not want to be found then you can scour the entire universe and not find a single hair from them."

"This is Isildur's bane?" Boromir said in a soft voice. Gloin, who had been prepared to argue with Gandalf, snapped his eyes toward the Man. Boromir stood from his seat, moving slowly toward the Ring on the pedestal. Frodo stiffened on his own seat. "Twice my brother Faramir has had a dream. I had the very same dream only once. I answered Lord Elrond's call to ask for his advice on the dream. I stood alone at the doors of the citadel. The eastern skies began to grow dark and a voice spoke out to me from a single ray of light. It said:

"_On Imladris seek the sword that was broken,_

_In the council shall be shown a token,_

_Isildur's Bane shall waken, Doom is near at hand,_

_In the council the Halfling shall stand._

"Now I understand," Boromir said, looking urgently to the council. "The weapon of the enemy has come forth. Let me take it back to my father. We can use it against the enemy."

"No one can access the information," Aragorn said, speaking up for the first time. Boromir turned cold eyes on him. "The Ring answers to Sauron alone. You'd bring the forces of the enemy down on yourself."

"What do you know of the Gondor System?" Boromir demanded. "A simple Ranger from the borders of the Shire System. Have you ever been to the White City?" Aragorn opened his mouth to speak but Legolas stood from his chair before the Man could answer.

"This is Aragorn son of Arathorn," the Elf said. "The heir to Isildur and the throne of Gondor. You owe him your allegiance." Boromir looked back to Aragorn, one eyebrow raised. The Ranger made no move to speak or counter what Legolas had said.

"Aragorn?" Boromir scoffed. "Heir to the throne. Don't make me laugh. For years we in the Gondor System have flourished in our lives without a king. The System has had no king for centuries." He glanced at Aragorn one last time before returning to his seat. "It needs no king."

"Legolas," Aragorn said softly when the Elf opened his mouth to argue.

"Indeed, we have proven this is the One Ring of Power," Lord Elrond said, striding toward the pedestal. "Gandalf and I both tested it ourselves. The markings of the band say:

"_One Ring to rule them all,_

_One Ring to find them,_

_One Ring to bring them all,_

_And in the darkness bind them._

"The Nazgûl have left Minas Morgul and have begun the hunt for the Ring of Power. Gandalf told me so many weeks ago when _Gwaihir_ rescued him from Saruman's tower. Saruman has sided with the enemy in his desire for power. The Ring of Power has finally been found."

Silence fell over the council. Frodo watched as each of the members in turn stared at the ring. Boromir watched it with a greedy look in his eyes. Only once did they flick curiously toward Frodo. Gandalf sighed to himself, shifting his staff against the ground.

"What would you have us do?" Thorin finally spoke up. Elrond folded his hands before himself, his attention on the Dwarf captain. "If we cannot use the Ring then what do we do with it."

"We destroy it," Lord Elrond said, as though it was a simple manner. "Sauron forged the ring of _raegril_, false silver. It is a metal found only in the Mordor System. No weapons or forges will be able to destroy the Ring."

"Could you not ask Tauriel to disarm it?" Legolas asked.

"She has tried," Lord Elrond told him. "There is a virus within the Ring that can only be destroyed in the Station of Barad-dûr. It was a safety measure put in by its creator. One of you must take the ring to the Mordor System." Silence fell over the council once more. Boromir, pinching the bridge of his nose, spoke up.

"One does not simply fly into the Mordor System," he said. All attention turned to him. "If what you are saying is true then all the safety measures will have been put back into place. You yourself, Lord Elrond, told me before the meeting about the possibility of Artificial Intelligences. If this is true then Sauron will be keeping an eye on the borders. You couldn't do this with ten thousand Men at your back."

"Are you a fool?" Legolas demanded. "The Ring has to be destroyed. Would you have us send it to the Gondor System and kill your entire race?"

"We could use it as a bargaining chip," Boromir said.

"Sauron would kill us all," Legolas said. He turned to Lord Elrond. "I can take the Ring with Tauriel to Barad-dûr and destroy it. We have done this before."

"I'll be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf," Gimli shouted. Ignoring his father's warning hand, he leapt from his seat with a drawn axe. "I don't care what my father says about you Elves. I haven't forgotten what you did all those years ago during the siege of Smaug."

"Gimli," Thorin said, but his warning was drowned out by the rest of the council joining in the argument.

"And what happens when Sauron takes back what's his?" Boromir's voice carried through the shouts.

"Sauron's power grows while we argue," Gandalf shouted "None of us can avoid it."

"Never trust an Elf!"

"Gimli!"

"_Shazara_!" Thorin roared unhelpfully, standing on his chair. Together, he and Lord Elrond attempted to bring peace back to the meeting.

Frodo watched the turmoil occur around him. Gimli swung out at Legolas who leaped back. Thorin jumped down from his seat to help Gloin wrangle his son in. Lord Elrond swept toward Legolas, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Galdor who were all drawing knives. Gandalf continued to argue with Boromir, his staff waving dangerously through the air. Frodo wasn't listening to him, though. His eyes were trained on the Ring on the pedestal.

"_Will you make the right decision when the time comes?"_ Frodo's hand drifted toward the black king in his pocket. Bilbo's words made sense now. His decision had come forward. Would he help defeat Sauron or stand by and let someone else do it? All his life had been spent in a quiet life on Hobbiton. His relatives told him to take it easy in his condition, let others do the hard work. Frodo's heart thudded against his ribcage. This was his chance to prove them wrong. Standing on his chair, he shouted to be heard over the fighting.

"I'll do it!" No one answered at first, too absorbed in their fighting. "I'll take the Ring to the Mordor System." Gandalf's words faltered in his argument with Boromir. Slowly, he turned toward Frodo. One by one, the arguments ceased as people began to realize what Frodo had said.

"You would take the Ring?" Legolas asked in disbelief. "It has nothing to do with you."

"All my life I've been told I couldn't do anything in my condition," Frodo said, his voice wavering. "I want to prove everyone who's ever said that wrong. I'll take the Ring to the Mordor System. But . . . I don't know the way." He could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"I can help you there," Gandalf said, striding forward. Hooking his hands under Frodo's armpits, he lowered the Hobbit to the ground. "I will help you with this duty so long as it's yours." Frodo smiled thankfully up at him. Aragorn strode forward, his hand falling on the sword at his side.

"By my life or death I will protect you," he said, kneeling before Frodo. "You have my sword."

"I once had a friend tell me _unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better_," Legolas said, moving forward. "You have my bow."

"And my axe," Gimli said. "Someone has to keep an eye on this Elf."

"Gimli!" Gloin said, exasperated with his son. Legolas sighed audibly.

"This is a bold move for such a small creature," Boromir said. "If this is what the council chooses then the Gondor System will see it through."

"Oi!" someone shouted. Sam shoved his way between Erestor and Glorfindel, running to the group. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me." He crossed his arms and glared at Elrond, daring the Elf to argue with him.

"It would appear so," Lord Elrond agreed. "Particularly when Frodo was called to a secret meeting and you were not." Sam flushed and looked down to his toes, muttering to himself.

"If he's going then we're going," Merry shouted, skirting around Gloin and Thorin. Pippin followed his cousin, stopped when Thorin grabbed his arm. Pippin gave him a confused look.

"Not you," Thorin said seriously. "You are underage." He turned his gaze to Lord Elrond. "Let my crew take Peregrin. We can care for him until the Shire System is rescued."

"I can make my own decision, yeah," Pippin snapped, trying to wrench his arm free. Thorin tightened his grip. "You're not my Da."

"You are an untrained Reader," Thorin told him. "You will get hurt on this quest."

"You don't know that!"

"You are not going. I forbid it."

"You can't tell him what to do," Merry argued. "You lost one Hobbit already, why should we trust you with another?" Thorin's grip loosened at that and Pippin wrenched himself free. The Hobbit hurried to place himself between Frodo and Merry.

"Lord Elrond," Thorin said pleadingly. "See reason. Peregrin should not go on this quest. He is too young." Lord Elrond hesitated, glancing between Pippin and Thorin. Pippin had set his jaw, his arms crossed.

"I have a feeling young Peregrin will go where he wants," Lord Elrond said, and Thorin's shoulders slumped. "But Legolas, Gandalf, and Aragorn all have experience with the care of Hobbits. They will watch over him."

"Gimli is going," Gloin added. "He'll keep an eye on the lad." Thorin nodded but didn't tear his glower away from Pippin. The youngest Hobbit shifted on the spot, suddenly nervous.

"If that argument is settled," Lord Elrond said. "Then you will be Nine Flyers for the Nine Riders. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Some of the lines of this chapter were taken from both the movie and the book. I tried to make it as unique as possible. Naturally, the Council of Elrond just isn't the Council if Boromir doesn't say "one does not simply walk into Mordor". I had to do a lot of research and transitions to fix this scene up and make it fit. I hope you enjoyed it!_


	19. Spare Room Conversations

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good morning!_

_I did my homework last night so I could write a chapter this morning just for you guys! Sorry there was no chapter yesterday. My boss told me I had to work until 11 o'clock the other night (no choice) and then I had to work in the morning yesterday until the evening . . . and then Castor and I went to her work party. Anyway, one thing led to another and I was exhausted yesterday. But here you are!_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Spare Room Conversations<strong>

"Let me go!" Thorin ignored Pippin's shout as he continued to drag the Hobbit through the halls of Imladris and away from the Council. "I said, let me go!" Pippin yanked at his arm uselessly. Thorin jerked him forward, sending the Hobbit stumbling alongside him.

The Dwarf paused occasionally to check a room before continuing on. Finally, finding an empty room, he stormed in, shoved Pippin before him, and slammed the door. Stumbling to his knees, Pippin leapt back to his feet and whirled around. Thorin was in his face before he could say another word. He had a tight grip on Pippin's upper arm once more.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you have done?" the Dwarf snarled. Pippin flinched at the fury that wash over him. Thorin shook him hard, as though demanding an answer.

"You're not my Da," Pippin said weakly. "I'm old enough to make decisions for myself, yeah."

"No, you are not," Thorin snapped. "By the first decree of the Governmental Constitution all crew members and guests aboard a cross-cultural ship are required to obey the cultural boundaries and rules of the captain's race."

"We're not even on the ship," Pippin argued. Thorin shook him hard again, pulling him close. Pippin whimpered when the fury intensified. Hidden beneath the layers of anger were small strains of fear.

"You surrendered your rights to Governmental protection when you left the Shire System. The moment you agreed to travel willingly aboard my ship you fell under the jurisdiction of the Government and Khazad law."

"You don't even obey the Government anymore!" The grip on Pippin's arm tightened and he tugged uselessly at it. "Let me go!"

"You have no right to be making these kinds of decisions," Thorin told him, ignoring Pippin's shout. "By the Khazad laws you are too young to travel without a parent or guardian. In the absence of either, the captain will assign an _ushmar_, a temporary guardian to watch over and care for you."

"I'm not even a Dwarf," Pippin tried pitifully. He tried to block out the fury and fear, instead focusing on Thorin's thoughts.

"_Don't understand – too dangerous – lost one already – die – get hurt – not again – Frerin."_

Even the thoughts were too much. Pippin shook his head, clapping his free hand over his ear. The fury dwindled into worry. The words halted almost immediately. Thorin's grip loosened on his arm until the Dwarf released him entirely. Pippin whimpered when Thorin pulled him into a warm hug.

"_You have to understand,"_ Thorin thought to him. _"We Dwarves cherish our children over gold and jewels. You are still young. I worry for you."_

"Why?" Pippin asked in a bare whisper. "I'm not a Dwarf, not your son." Thorin sighed aloud and pressed his cheek to Pippin's head.

"_You have not had a proper father in your life."_ Pippin stiffened at the words. _"That is how I translated what you told us on the ship. Am I wrong?"_

"No."

"_Then grant me this one wish. Do not go on the journey. I do not want you die or get hurt."_ Pippin pressed closer against the Dwarf, feeling a sense of comfort in his arms. _"I can protect you on my ship. The crew will look out for you."_

"You heard what Lord Elrond said at the end, yeah," Pippin whispered. "We only have to go as far as we want to. None of us are swearing oaths." Thorin sighed again before nuzzling Pippin's hair.

"Promise you will stay safe?" the Dwarf asked aloud. Drawing back from the hug, Pippin looked into Thorin's eyes. He tried to decipher the emotions he saw but they were too much.

"I promise," Pippin said.

"Twitch your ears and wiggle your toes?"

"What?" Pippin made a face at that. Thorin smiled sadly at him.

"It is something Bilbo says," the Dwarf told him. "Twitch my ears and wiggle my toes, I will take this promise wherever my path goes." Pippin squinted at the Dwarf, trying to sense the lie in him. He found only honesty there, that and sheer terror of what could happen.

"Strike the hammer and grind the stone," Pippin said, picking up on a small thought. "I'll take this promise all the way home, yeah." Thorin chuckled and hugged him once more then released him. The Dwarf held him at arm length, looking him over. Pippin smiled softly.

"Bofur will make you a transmitter," Thorin said. "If at any time during the journey you want to leave, open a frequency and we will come pick you up as quickly as you can."

"All right," Pippin agreed, and Thorin seemed to sigh with relief. Then Pippin picked up on another thought. He blanched at it. "I'm not leaning how to use a sword!"

O.o.O

Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and Aragorn were the only three to remain behind at the meeting. Thorin had stormed out with Pippin. Frodo and Sam had led Merry away when the older Hobbit had wanted to follow his friend. After the Hobbits had left, the rest of the Council had slowly filtered out, leaving the three alone.

"You will need to travel in secrecy," Lord Elrond said, pacing around the now empty pedestal. He had given the ring to Frodo on a golden chain for safe keeping. Aragorn remained seated in a chair while Gandalf stood beside a pillar. "The number of Orcs sailing in the skies have multiplied to the point not even the Government will be able to control them." No one had to point out the Government had ever really tried. "And with Saruman's betrayal comes another barrier. He will try and stop this quest as soon as he can."

"We can avoid the routes that would take us there," Aragorn said. Digging out his pipe, he began to fill it with pipeweed. "There are several other paths we can take: Caradhras and the Mines of Moria through the Misty Mountains."

"Those Mountains are infested with Goblins," Lord Elrond said. "There is no telling what you would run into there. But . . . those would appear to be your only options. Any other road would take you either too close to Saruman or too far from the Mordor System."

"We can try the path of Caradhras first," Gandalf said. He leaned heavily on his staff, his own pipe in hand. "If that fails then we can travel through the Mines of Moria. We may find Balin, Ori, and Oin there."

"Thorin would be happy for their return," Aragorn agreed.

"Very well, you have your road," Lord Elrond said as he continued his pacing. "Now you need a ship, something that can conceal you on your journey."

"You're talking about a _Rider_ from the Rohan System," Aragorn said. "The Men of the Rohan System have become too paranoid to loan their ships out."

"What about the Elves?" Gandalf asked.

"The Elves don't make ships for group travels," Aragorn answered. "Other than the _Western Ship_, and those are made for war."

"There was once a design," Gandalf said. He turned toward Lord Elrond with a smile. "Tell me, _mellon_, do you still have any _Mithrils_ left over?" Aragorn looked between the two in confusion.

"The _Mithrils_, Aragorn," Lord Elrond said. "Were a ship design by the Elves for a traveling ship. They failed in the end because they were released at the same time of the _Speeder 180_. We have one ship left, but she is old and worn down. My crews would need to repair her before you could use her for travels."

"She may be our best option," Gandalf said. "We could rig a cloaking device into the console. Neither the Government nor the Orcs could detect us."

"I will have my men repair the ship for you," Lord Elrond said. "We should have her up and running in about a month. Now, about the pilot and engineers. Legolas has had a few years of training flying ships. With a bit more training, he could be an excellent pilot for you."

"We already have one," Aragorn said. Lord Elrond paused in his pacing and turned to look at the Man. "Merry has had years of experience flying ships around." Gandalf chucked. "And Pippin is the best engineer next to Bofur and Bifur."

"_Mithrils_ are no Shire shuttle," Lord Elrond said. Aragorn chuckled around his pipe. "The Hobbits have never worked with an Elvish ship before."

"Actually," Gandalf said. "They have. One of the first nights Elladan and Elrohir were home they helped Merry and Pippins sneak into the hanger. Merry hotwired one of the _Starchilds_ and took her out for a spin. He's quite adept when it comes to handling new ships." Lord Elrond looked astounded by this bit of news. "As for Peregrin Took, he's a Reader. The only time the voices stop is when is mind is focused elsewhere. It would keep him out of trouble."

"I am still against you taking the youngest Hobbit with you."

"So is Thorin. But I would like to see either of you force a Took to change his mind. You'd have to send him home tied up in a sack to stop him." Lord Elrond's lips twitched in a small smile. "We couldn't ask for a finer pilot and engineer team. They'd see us to the Mordor System and back in a heartbeat." Aragorn and Lord Elrond shared a knowing look. None of them had to speak to understand. Bilbo had gone there and back again. The Fellowship might not have that option.

O.o.O

"A Reader?" Legolas repeated in disbelief. Kili nodded, his mouth too full of apple to speak. "How did you manage to get a Reader on your ship?"

"Kidnapped him," Kili said, earning himself an aghast look from Legolas. "Sorry, we were on Bree and Thorin saw Frodo. He sent Dwalin to get the Hobbit and it turned into a kidnapping spree. Everything was fine in the end."

"Still up to your usual antics, then," Legolas said with an exasperated sigh. Kili shrugged, grinning widely. He tossed the apple core over his shoulder and into the garden under Legolas' bedroom window. "Any word from Bilbo."

"Not since we found Frodo," Kili said, his smile sliding from his face. "He Tasered me on the docks on Hobbiton but that's the last we saw of him."

"I hope you find him soon," Legolas said sincerely. Kili accepted the words with a gracious smile. "Now, about this Reader . . ?"

"Completely untrained," Kili answered. "Hears almost everything you think, knows your deepest secrets, and can understand your emotions better than even yourself. Apparently Merry's been the only one to help him all his life. His parents tried to hide what he was."

"That explains why Thorin reacted badly to Pippin," Legolas said with a frown. "Why is Lord Elrond allowing him to go if he is untrained? Surely he would be safer here on Rivendell."

"I think Thorin wants him to stay on the ship. I heard him arguing with Pippin a little while ago."

"That would be better than going on this dangerous journey."

"Pip won't be stopped," Kili sighed. "Could you keep an eye on him? Being around Elves seems to soothe him."

"Of course," Legolas said. "An untrained Reader could be dangerous."

"Thanks," Kili said in a relieved voice. "Fili and I are both worried. We don't want him to get hurt." Legolas smiled and seated himself on the edge of his bed, drawing a knife to clean it. Kili watched him for a moment before speaking up. "So . . . Tauriel's not going with you guys?"

"No, she said she had business elsewhere," Legolas answered without looking up from his weapons. "She would not tell me what when I asked her, only that it was more important than this journey."

"Don't know what could be more important than this journey," Kili muttered. Legolas smiled at him. "Oh, before I forget, don't let Gimli annoy you too much. He's still sour about the whole Smaug siege-thing."

"Yes, I got that feeling from him," Legolas commented drily. "I will try not to scar him too much when he provokes me." Kili snorted, sitting back against the wall on the window seat. "Have you heard anything form Balin, Oin, or Ori recently?"

"Not yet, still silent as the grave. Dwalin wants to go to Moria to try and find them but Thorin's bent on hunting down Bilbo." Legolas paused in the act of cleaning his knife and glanced up at Kili. The Dwarf sighed. "I just don't understand why Bilbo keeps running from us. We're his friends."

"Bilbo never does anything without a reason. He will tell us in the end."

"I know. I just wish the end was here already."

O.o.O

The night of the Council, Frodo retreated to his room after dinner. He found himself too exhausted to engage in conversation with any of the crew or Elves. Sam offered to escort him back to his room but Frodo turned him down. He knew Sam was enjoying himself too much in Dori's company. The silver-haired Dwarf worried over the Hobbit constantly, seemingly needing someone to mother-hen without his youngest brother around.

Frodo shut the tall door behind himself, turning around. His eyes fell on the small black knight chess piece sitting on the windowsill. Moving toward the window, Frodo leaned over and peered out at the garden below. Tauriel was nowhere to be seen. The only sign of her presence was the chess piece. Curious, Frodo withdrew the black king from his pocket. He examined it for a moment before setting it on the windowsill beside the black knight.

That night Frodo fell asleep to the sound of crickets and the night wind. He dreamt of chess boards and Bilbo playing an unrecognizable opponent. The older Hobbit seemed happy about something as he set a black king on the chessboard. Surrounding it were two bishops, two rooks, two knights, and an unformed piece. Bilbo constantly picked up the mysterious chess piece and examined it, as though unsure himself what it was.

When Frodo awoke in the morning, the two chess pieces were missing. In their place was a single golden ring, a sapphire embedded in the center of it. Frodo smiled at the sight of the ring. He recognized it from Bilbo's hand the day of the Autumn Fair. It felt like a promise. Everything would be all right.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Not my best work :/ but I kind of needed these scenes in there. Not to worry, the journey starts soon! I hope. T.T Um . . . I didn't expect chess to play such a large part in this story, that was a surprise, and Bilbo wasn't even supposed to appear until, like, the end when he told everyone what was going on. Oh well, these characters have a mind of their own._

_(Also, I hope no one is reading this and going "Good God, she's butchered Tolkien's hard work".)_

_See you after work!_


	20. Tarmac Farewells

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good morning!_

_Sorry for the lack of updates yesterday after work. I was too tired and when I tried to write it turned out weird. Also, big time skip! Because, really, that's a lot of boring training for you to hear about._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Tarmac Farewells<strong>

Lord Elrond had promised a month to repair the _Mithril_. It took nearly twice that amount of time for the ship to be made ready. Each repair the crew of Elves made only brought a new problem to light. When the console had been stripped entirely and rewired, they found a few of the parts inside had rusted over. Doors wouldn't open. Entire engine parts were damaged beyond repair. Lights wouldn't illuminate for more than a foot in any direction. The list went on and on. Occasionally a completely new part had to be brought in, as the existing part was no longer in use, and everything around that part had to be shifted around for it to fit. Several times the Elves tried to get the ship going. The _Mithril_ would sputter, cough, and die. Boromir was ready to call it quits on the ship and call for one from Gondor. Merry downright refused, saying he wanted to fly the Elvish ship. Boromir made it very clear he didn't care. He just wanted to get the show on the road.

Tensions were running high on Rivendell. Legolas and Gimli had to be kept in separate rooms and warned by the others if one of them was entering. Legolas swore Gimli was starting all the fights. Gimli didn't even bother denying it. He'd just say the "wood sprite" was asking for it.

Boromir, Aragorn, and Gandalf argued over what path they were taking to the Mordor System. Boromir wanted to make for the Gap of Rohan, a small portion of the Rohan System that intercrossed with the Gondor System. It would take them on a straight route toward Barad-dûr. Aragorn said no, the path took them too close to the Isengard planet where Saruman called home with the Orthanc Station. Gandalf sided with Aragorn on each argument, causing Boromir to shout they were planning this all along. It ended with two Men storming off in different directions while a Wizard threw up his hands in frustration.

Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin . . . they could have been happier. Lord Elrond found Elvish knives for Sam, Merry, and Pippin to use. They weren't quite like _Sting_, not made with such reverence or care, but they would work. Upon seeing the swords, Thorin dubbed himself and his crew their trainers. Dwalin was all too happy to help. He had begun to grow restless sitting around.

Dwalin and Gloin worked with Sam and Merry, neither of whom were happy of the training. Bofur worked one-on-one with Frodo. He had the most experience with breathing conditions from the mines and helped to set up a training regime for the asthmatic Hobbit. Pippin found himself under the careful eye of both Thorin and Fili. The two relatives were bent on training him to multi-task. Once they found out he could Read and use the basic motor functions at the same time, they wanted him to be able to Read his opponent's next move. Many of his training sessions were cut short due to screaming temper tantrums and the youngest Hobbit was sent to take a nap until later. Thorin couldn't blame him. He was putting a lot of strain on Pippin. The young Reader had never done so much as try to avoid his ability.

Between training from breakfast to lunch and listening to Boromir and Aragorn argue, Frodo didn't have much time for anything else. Occasionally he saw signs of Tauriel. The red-haired Elf would often hang around, speaking with any of the crew members or Legolas. When Frodo spotted her, she would smile and disappear with a flick of her hair. Frodo never did figure out why she was always hanging around him.

He continued to dream of Bilbo. The older Hobbit was growing anxious and annoyed at the same time. His fingers would dance across the chessboard, rearranging pieces and checking on them occasionally, but always they returned to the unformed chess piece. He would mutter over it for what felt like hours, turning the piece between his fingers. Frodo could never quite understand why his cousin was so upset about the piece. Occasionally Bilbo would turn his attention to three black pawns tucked away in a corner. He would tap or wiggle one on the board, chewing his lip as though in thought, and then return his attention to another part of the board. It was as though he was trying to make a decision. Every time Frodo opened his mouth to ask, he woke up. Everything, it appeared, would remain a secret until he needed to know.

"_Details not important,"_ Bilbo had whispered to himself one night in the dream. The words haunted Frodo during the day. He turned them over in his head, trying to decipher what his cousin was doing. With each passing night Bilbo seemed more harried and just slightly more paranoid about something. He just didn't quite know what yet.

October melted into November which drifted into December. The trees lost their colors. The temperatures dropped. Snow began to flutter down in small flurries that melted quickly on the ground. Training sessions were moved indoors where Lord Elrond assigned them a room. The Elvish ships began to come. They landed on Rivendell for only a short while before leaving. Sam asked Lord Elrond about it one day.

"Our time in these Systems is over," Lord Elrond said. "My people are returning to the Valinor System where we are from." Sam blinked at him owlishly before turning his attention on the visiting Elves. Many mourned over the loss of the Fallohides. They still remembered their native kindred and had wished to take them home to the Valinor System. That would not be happening, not unless a miracle happened very soon.

It was late in December, after yule, that Lord Elrond approached the Fellowship. The _Mithril _was ready.

O.o.O

_December 25__th__ 5091, Rivendell, Uncharted Space Outside Shire System_

She was a slender ship, such were the designs of the Elves. One might have thought it was a bird at first sight. The bow of the ship was a rounded tip with several windows for the pilot's use. Nearly a quarter of the way down her length, the wings curved outward along the ship and ran parallel with the body. The entire ship curved slightly from the bow to the stern. Her sheeting was an imitation of mithril, hence her name

Thorin and his crew had come to see the Fellowship off.

"Don't trust Elvish ships with their clutches," Fili told Merry seriously. "Half the time they don't work. If you can, hardwire the system the minute you get the chance to bypass the entire process. You might end up grinding the gears a bit, but those can be replaced."

"Right," Merry said with a firm nod. He supposed flying a _Mithril_ was nothing like flying a stolen _Starchild_.

"And don't shift gears too quickly," Kili added. "Elves don't make their ships to handle damage like we do." Elrohir frowned over at the Dwarves when he heard the words. Kili smiled sadly at Merry, knowing very well this could be the last time they saw each other. Merry returned it with a tight-lipped smile of his own. "Oh, right, here." Digging in his pocket, Kili withdrew one of his many puzzles from the cockpit. Merry took the small box in his hands, turning it over in curiosity. "It's a Khazad puzzle box," Kili told him. "Our mother gave it to me years ago when we first started flying with Thorin. There's a prize in there but I've never been able to get it open. You might have better luck than me."

Merry looked down at the puzzle box then back up the brothers. Tears filled his eyes and for perhaps the first time in his life, he didn't know what to say. Kili wrapped his arms around the Hobbit in a tight hug before passing him off to Fili who nuzzled his hair.

"Stay safe," Fili whispered into Merry's ear. "Use that transmitter the moment you want to leave."

"I will," Merry said softly. Fili squeezed the Hobbit gently before stepping back.

"And remember," Fili said. "Fili."

"And Kili."

"At your service," the two brothers said together with a bow. Merry couldn't help but laugh at that.

Several yards away, Bofur and Bifur were giving Pippin a firm lesson on Elvish engines. Bifur had learned early on the Reader understood him best when he projected images during their conversations. Pippin nearly fell over in shock when he was bombarded with a rapid sequence of engine parts.

"Careful, Bif," Bofur laughed, holding Pippin up by an arm. "Ya don't want ta make him pass out or they'll never get off the ground." Bifur seemed hopeful at this suggestion.

"I'm okay," Pippin said dizzily. "Just need a moment, yeah." Bofur released his arm once he was certain the Hobbit wouldn't fall over.

"Whatever Bif said," Bofur told him. "Listen to it. He knows engines better than anyone else."

"Right, listen to Bif," Pippin said. Bifur lit up at the use of his nickname and rambled off in quick Khuzdul. He'd taken quickly to Pippin just as Bilbo had. He seemed to have a special connection with the two Hobbits.

Bofur patted Pippin sadly on the arm before dragged Bifur away. Thorin strode quickly toward him from Lord Elrond's side. The Dwarf dragged Pippin into a hug the moment he got the chance.

"_Remember the transmitters,"_ Thorin told him. Pippin snuggled against the warm body, feeling comfort and safety there. _"We will come get you as quickly as we can. If the transmitter does not work then whistle. One of our ships will pick it up."_

"Right, transmitter and whistle," Pippin repeated softly. "What are you going to be doing? Looking for Bilbo, yeah?"

"_Aye, we need to find him before something happens,"_ Thorin said. Pippin's eyebrows shot up when he saw a thought of Tasers in the back of Thorin' mind. The Dwarf sighed sadly, knowing what the Hobbit had seen. _"We are getting desperate. Our best chance is to knock him unconscious the next time we see him."_

"Be careful," Pippin said. "I saw the shark tank. That wasn't pretty."

"_No, it was not. Fili will never be the same again."_ Pippin smiled sadly and accepted the hug Thorin gave him. _"Be safe, little one. I worry for you."_

"I know."

Dori had taken it upon himself to ensure both Aragorn and Boromir knew how to handle Hobbits, being the expert.

"They are children at heart," the Dwarf told the two Men. Boromir watched him with a vaguely disinterested expression while Aragorn appeared overwhelmed by the amount of information they were receiving. "They seek comfort when they are scared or hurt. You have to listen to their voices to understand what they are really saying. Everything they say is spoken with undertones of sounds. A huff could mean they're annoyed while a squeal could be either surprise or excitement."

"Strange creatures," Boromir muttered under his breath. Dori ignored him, moving forward with the lesson.

"If you ever lose them," Dori said. "Listen for any sounds that don't belong in the area. Hobbits are raised to make doorbell and tea kettle sounds in the forest. It helps adults find them faster."

"Do they have unique sounds?" Aragorn asked curiously. Dori thought through the question, running his fingers through his beard.

"Occasionally, yes. Bilbo makes a screaming fox sound when he's in urban settings. In the forest, though, he can imitate a creaking wooden chair when he wants to. That's an eerie one at night."

The farewells continued on for several minutes. Bofur and Nori both gave Frodo hugs, telling him to be safe. The engineer handed him a few extra tubes of asthma medicine, just in case. Arwen came to see Aragorn off, giving him a small present Frodo couldn't quite see. Tauriel had come to say goodbye to Legolas. The two Elves spoke in soft Sindarin to one another before hugging. Gloin gave his son a talking to, telling him to play nice with the Elf. Gimli grumbled over each word, saying they weren't going on this journey for good relations.

Lord Elrond emerged from the halls of his house with Gandalf trailing behind. The Elf-Lord carried a long silver box with him. He stopped before the gathered Fellowship.

"Remember, none of you are required to go any further than you wish," Lord Elrond said seriously. "If you wish to leave there are Stations around you may stay at. Call for help and someone will come get you." Thorin gave Pippin's shoulder a firm squeeze. "None of you have sworn oaths to this quest. Your ship has been named _The Fellowship of the Ring_ in honor of your quest. The words are written in Quenya for your own safety. None but the oldest of the Elves still know this language. Aragorn, step forward."

The Ranger stepped toward his surrogate father, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Lord Elrond offered the silver box to him. The latches flipped easily and the lid slid open. Aragorn gasped softly at the object within. Gently, he reached in to draw the long sword.

"You mother said: I leave hope for the Dúnedain and take none for myself," Lord Elrond told the Ranger. "She left me the shards of Narsil and the Ring of Barahir. The ring I gave to you when you turned twenty. The shards of Narsil fell into your possession, but now they are re-forged into Andúril, the Flame of the West. May it see you safe on this journey, child of my brother."

"This is a great gift," Aragorn said, examining the blade of the re-forged sword. He turned warm eyes on Lord Elrond. "Thank you." Frodo stared at the blade in wonder. Now Bilbo's words made sense. _Renewed shall be blade that was broken._ The blade was the shards of Narsil.

"May the blessing of the Valar carry you safely on your journey," Lord Elrond said to the entire Fellowship. "Godspeed, my friends. You and I will meet again."

The members of the Fellowship bowed to Lord Elrond, muttering their own words of parting. The Dwarves made their way back toward the Elves for the safety of distance. Gandalf clapped Lord Elrond once on the shoulder before striding toward the ship. The rest of the newly formed crew followed him up the lowered ramp. They stepped into the lower of the two levels. The entire length of the first level was a cargo bay refurbished with hammocks for sleeping. A single staircase led up to the second level where the cockpit, engine room, and main area were. A hole had been carved out of the center for quick access between the floors.

"Merry, Pippin," Gandalf said to the younger Hobbit. "Get us off this moon so we can start this journey."

"Aye, aye, captain," Pippin said. With a hop and a skip, he darted for the stairwell. Merry followed him the staircase.

Frodo stared around himself at wonder. Elvish ships were nothing like Khazad ships. All cords and pipes had been tucked away under sheeting. There were no visible rafters in the cargo bay, the ceiling as smooth as the floor. The bowed ramp rose with hardly a hiss when Boromir pressed the button.

The engine on the floor above whirred to life. Merry gave an inaudible shout and the ship lurched gently upward. Boromir swore colorfully, muttering about wild Hobbits and their inability to steer. Sam growled, just as angry. Frodo couldn't help himself. He laughed at the excited laughter from Pippin above. Gandalf shook his head but chuckled all the same. Even Legolas seemed to be enjoying himself around the Small Folk. Gimli and Aragorn were the only two who appeared stressed by the situation. Neither had spent much time around Hobbits and therefore didn't know what to expect.

"_We're off,"_ Frodo thought to himself, repeating words Bilbo himself had spoken many years earlier. _"On an adventure."_

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_And, we're off! The journey begins!_

_In the book Aragorn had the shards of Narsil with him the entire time. I kind of mixed the book and movie together. Because why would you carry a useless sword around with you through Orc infested skies?_

_Aragorn is the descendent of Elros, Elrond's twin brother! Now how many of you knew that? That makes Arwen and Aragorn . . . distant, distant cousins. I wonder if that counts as incest. Elros had the option to choose a mortal life (just like Arwen) and became the ancestor of the Dúnedain._

_I only work four hours today, so I'll try to update afterward! Godspeed!_


	21. Bedroom Plans

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good morning!_

_I tried writing last night but I was too tired after work. I ended up skimming through Netflix and watching Dollhouse. Ah well, here's your chapter for the day. I have homework to do tonight, but I have the next few days off. Then we go back to school._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Bedroom Plans<strong>

_December 25__th__ 5091, _The Arkenstone,_ Outside Rivendell Airspace_

Thorin made sure _Gwaihir_ was settled in nicely before leaving the cargo bay. Gandalf's _Eagle_ was notorious for being fidgety when its pilot wasn't nearby. The ship had once blasted its way through hanger doors just to return to Gandalf when it was bored. That hadn't ended nicely with Thranduil. The Elf-King had been a bit more than disgruntled about his ruined doors.

Marching up the stairs, Thorin stepped into the living area of the second level. Dwalin and Nori were bent over the dining table. The warrior's shoulders were tense, as though he wasn't happy about something.

"What do we have?" Thorin asked. Dwalin leapt is surprise at his arrival but Nori acted as though he'd been expecting it. Moving around the table, Thorin examined the contents. There were several stun guns, varying syringes, and more than one tranquilizer dart.

"This is what we could find," Dwlain said, waving his hand over the table. "Most the Tasers can do is knock a Dwarf off his feet."

"Should be strong enough for Bilbo," Nori commented drily. Dwalin glared at him. "What? I'm not happy about shooting our little friend either."

"Bilbo has escaped us at every turn," Thorin said, crossing his arms. "I am starting to get desperate. What else did you find?"

"Tranquilizer darts," Nori said as he grabbed one of the small darts. "I have no idea why Gloin had them, but he did."

"You stole them," Dwlain said bluntly.

"Thorin requested all things to knock a Hobbit out. I figured that gave me complete reign of the ship."

"We're tryin' to catch Bilbo not kill him."

"I'm not trying to kill him."

"Dwalin, Nori," Thorin barked, and the two old enemies ceased their bickering almost immediately. "What about the syringes?"

"Oin had some general anesthesia for surgery and doxacurium," Dwalin said. "Why he's got a paralytic drug is beyond me. We'd have to get close enough to inject him with either of these. He doesn't let us in a three foot radius of himself."

"You're sure we have to do this?" Nori asked Thorin softly. "Bilbo's in a fragile state right now. If we do this, he may not forgive us."

"We have no other choice," Thorin said, dropping his arms to his side. "Nori, you and Kili are our best marksmen. You two take a few tranquilizer darts. Dwalin and Gloin will carry the syringes."

"What about you?" Dwalin asked.

"I will have the Taser," Thorin told him. "If Bilbo is going to hate anyone for electrocuting him, it should be me."

"This isn't eight decades of grudging revenge, is it?" Nori asked with a snort. Thorin glared at him. "Didn't think so. Fine, we're armed. Now what?"

"We find our prey. I told Kili to set a course for Archet."

"We're goin' to see P.J.?" Dwalin asked in surprise. Thorin nodded once for his answer. "But all that guys does is drink tea all day. How's he supposed to help us find Bilbo?"

"P.J. sees everything," Thorin said. "Bilbo may have slipped up and walked under a camera somewhere in Harad for all we know. P.J. can tell us." Dwalin groaned. He hated Archet. It was nearly as bad as Bree with the amount of Men living there.

"Cheer up," Nori said, nudging Dwalin in the arm. "Free ale. P.J. only has the best for the Dirty Baker's Dozen."

"I told you not to call us that!"

O.o.O

_December 25__th__ 5091, Minas Tirith Moon, Gondor System_

Being the son of the Steward of the Gondor System was exhausting. In the absence of his older brother, their father expected more out of Faramir. To be honest, Faramir didn't know how much more he could give. He'd spent hours on the outer Osgiliath moon fighting back the forces of attacking Orcs. What precious time he had back on Minas Tirith was spent either in the company of his father, the Steward Denethor, or on the training grounds with Beregrond. It was exhausting.

Faramir took the most direct route through the palace halls. He didn't want to stop for conversation with any guards today or greet any servants. Today was his single day off. The one day where his father allowed him a moment's peace. Faramir wanted to cherish it, spend it wisely. In his books, at least.

A short ride in an elevator and a few minutes later, Faramir strode down the hall of the royal quarters. Originally they were meant for the kings and their families. There were no more kings. There hadn't been for generations. Now Denethor, Faramir, and Boromir lived there. Their mother had passed away several years before. Faramir bypassed his older brother's room and made a beeline for his own. Pressing his thumb against the pad beside his door, he spoke clearly for the computer to hear.

"Faramir son of Denethor," he said. The pad flickered to life and beeped at his voice. "Ithilien, fifty-fifty-six." A green bar scanned the length of his thumb then back up. The computer processed the information then flickered once more.

"_Access denied."_

Faramir frowned and tried again. The computer denied him the access to his own bedroom. His brow furrowed even more. No one had access to his bedroom except himself, his father, and his brother. No one in the entire universe . . . Faramir's eyes flicked down to the crack of the door where he spotted the black chess piece. The knight had been wedged into the corner. Smiling to himself, Faramir turned back to the computer.

"Faramir son of Denethor. Ithilien, fifty-fifty-one." The computer processed the information. The screen flickered green.

"_Access granted."_

The door slid open with hardly a hiss. Stooping down, he swiped the black chess piece from the floor. The piece was cool to the touch. It had been sitting there for quite a while. Faramir straightened up and prepared to berate his friend for such foolishness. What he saw made him drop the chess piece. It thudded quietly on the carpeted floor. Behind him, the door hissed shut.

Underhill – harmless, sweet Underhill – laid on his bed. The windows had been opened, the sashes blowing in the afternoon breeze. All the lights of the bedroom had been turned to their brightest. It wasn't the breeze or the lights that bothered Faramir, though. It was the blood on Underhill's shirt. The _Perian_ pressed a stained hand against his abdomen, a pained look on his face. He leapt in surprise at the arrival of Faramir but laid back on the bed groaning.

"Underhill," Faramir breathed. Crossing the room in quick steps, he knelt beside the bed. Underhill stiffened slightly. "What happened?" Faramir asked as he gently tugged the _Perian's_ hand away from his stomach. The nasty nub of an Orc arrow poked out of the hole in the shirt.

"Tried to get into Moria," Underhill said through gritted teeth. "Blasted Orcs caught me by surprise."

"You should know better," Faramir scolded softly. Underhill chuckled, his breathing come out in a pained wheeze. "Was it poisoned?"

"Hurts. Does that tell you anything?"

"Not as much as I need." Faramir glanced over his shoulder toward the door. "You wait here. I'll go get some medicine."

"Can't go anywhere else," Underhill muttered.

Grinning, Faramir patted the _Perian_ on the knee before hurrying from the room. He hurried from the royal halls, down the elevator, and through the halls of the medical wing. A few servants paused to ask after him but Faramir waved them away. He didn't have time to stop for chitchat. Underhill needed him. Getting the supplies he needed only took a few minutes and a bit of coaxing. Promises made, Faramir hurried back the way he had come. His path led him straight back to his bedroom where he found Underhill still lying on his bed.

"Remove your shirt," Faramir ordered as the door hissed shut behind him.

"Child telling me what to do," Underhill muttered to himself, but he shrugged painfully out of his long coat. The buttons of the shirt popped out easily enough and the shirt pooled around his waist. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Faramir examined the damage.

"How long ago did you get this injury?" he asked the _Perian_.

"Couple weeks ago, give or take a day," Underhill said, shrugging. He winced at the movement, one hand drifting toward his waist. Faramir grabbed the small hand in his own.

"Don't touch it," he warned. Underhill scowled at him but obeyed. Fingers dancing gingerly around the wound, Faramir examined the arrow carefully. Eventually he had a diagnosis. "I'll have to remove the arrowhead." Underhill paled. "There's no other choice."

"I-I know," Underhill said in a soft voice. "I just . . . don't have a good history with arrows and bullets."

"No one does," Faramir muttered. Underhill kicked him for that then groaned. "Knock that off, you'll hurt yourself more."

"Child."

"Halfling."

"Baby."

"Immature." Underhill grinned at the insult. Ever since they'd met the two friends had been throwing insults at one another. Faramir smiled softly at the _Perian_.

"Just don't rip my stomach out or anything." The smile dropped. Trust Underhill to ruin the moment with a joke. The _Perian_ laid back on the bed, his fingers twisting in the sheets. "Ready when you are."

Removing the Orc arrow took longer than Faramir had hoped it would. Whoever had made the arrow had purposefully hooked the end like porcupine quills. Faramir tried his best to remove the arrowhead without causing too much pain. At Underhill's Khuzdul shout, he ripped the arrow out in surprise. Underhill gave a sharp wail of pain, arching off the bed.

"Sorry, sorry," Faramir said, his hands hovering over Underhill's stomach. "I wasn't expecting you to shout like that."

"Not your fault," Underhill said through gritted teeth. "Give me a moment." Faramir obliged, watching the _Perian_ writhe on the bed in pain until he fell still. For a moment Faramir thought his friend had passed out. Then Underhill gritted his teeth.

"Better fix it fast," he muttered. "Medical mites are working."

Faramir's hands flew into action. He'd seen the medical mites in action before. They were unbiased bits of technology that fixed something whether it was ready or not. Underhill had once told him of a time when he'd been shot in the stomach with a bullet. His friend Graham had been yelled at their medic for not removing his hand from the injury. Once the damage had been assessed he'd apologized to Graham. Had Graham removed his hand then the injury would have been sealed around the bullet and the damaged tissue healed incorrectly.

The liquid _athelas_ bubbled in the injury. Underhill hissed at the pain, his hips wiggling in suppressed agony. Faramir waited for the medicine to clean the injury before moving any further. He swallowed hard when the liquid began to run black. The _athelas_ was nullifying the poison from Orc arrow. He didn't even want to think what could have happened if Underhill hadn't come to him. Once the _athelas_ had done its work, Faramir pressed a pad of cotton to Underhill's stomach wound and taped it down. The final move was a swift injection of painkillers. Underhill visibly relaxed, a sigh escaping his lips.

"You should stay here," Faramir told the _Perian_, wiping his hands off on a cloth. Underhill's head snapped toward him. "Just for a few days. I understand the dangers of you staying in one place for too long."

"I have plans, actually," Underhill said. "I have to get over to the Rohan System."

"Eomer?" Faramir asked, and Underhill shook his head. "Then who? I didn't know you had anyone else over there."

"Théodred works with me," Underhill told him. "He has been for a few months now. I have a new job for him."

"What about me?" Faramir asked. Underhill frowned at him in confusion. "I've been fighting on Osgiliath and sitting in the palace for nearly six months now. When does my time come?"

"Your time comes soon," Underhill said. Faramir opened his mouth to argue but the _Perian _raised a hand. "I have a job for you now but you can't start it for a few months. Not until I send out the call." Faramir sat back on the bed, his hands resting in his lap. "Your brother arrived on Rivendell before I could stop him. Tauriel is following him."

"Tauriel?"

"An exiled Elf from the Woodland Realm. She has promised to ensure Boromir's safety."

"I don't understand," Faramir said, and Underhill hummed. "If you wanted Boromir to join your team then why didn't you ask him while he was here? You visited several times before."

"Your father would have found out," Underhill said with a sigh. "He knows more than you give him credit for. You're immune to his sneaking eyes but Boromir isn't. Denethor would have captured me and handed me over to the Government."

"And what about Boromir?" Faramir asked. "Is he all right?"

"Boromir's traveling with the Fellowship," Underhill answered. "I need him to leave it soon, though. He's an important part of my plans. Will you be willing to help me when I finally have your brother separated from the Fellowship?"

"Of course."

"Now, about you," Underhill said, leaning back on the pile of pillows. Faramir straightened up hopefully. "Your father's disappointed in you. You know he doesn't like you as much as Boromir." Faramir nodded once, swallowing hard. "Use that to your advantage. I need you to leave Osgiliath soon. Head for the Ithilien air space and head the Rangers there as their captain."

"What's my purpose?" Faramir asked. Underhill scratched his neck.

"This can go one of two ways: one, the Fellowship is forced to come your way and they need defense. I need you to help sneak them under your father's nose. Two, something goes wrong and I need you to defend part of the Fellowship, whoever it may be."

"When do I leave for Ithilien?"

"When I give you the signal," Underhill said. Relaxing, he closed his eyes. "You won't be sitting around here for too long." The _Perian_ sighed, his body falling limp with almost immediate sleep. Faramir smiled at the small creature. Underhill had always amazed him, from the moment they'd met thirteen years ago. He'd guided Faramir through rocky points in his life and only asked for bits of help in exchange. Now he'd come to Faramir with a role to play on the board. Faramir would see it through.

O.o.O

_December 25__th__ 5091, The Fellowship of the Ring_

"Caradhras is an unreliable path," Boromir's voice drifted up through the hole in the floor. Merry glanced around at the other Hobbits with a raised eyebrow. Sam fisted his hair, gritting his teeth. Frodo didn't look up from where he laid face-first on the floor.

"Minas Tirith would be a fool's move," Gandalf shouted, and Sam groaned. Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf had been arguing for the past three hours. At least on Rivendell they were able to storm away from one another. Now they were trapped on ship together with nowhere to go. Somebody was going to get hurt.

"My father would give us protection," Boromir argued. "He'd see us straight through to the Mordor System."

"And in the meantime take the Ring while's he at it," Gandalf said, speaking the words on everyone's mind. "No, we'll take the path of Caradhras."

"Aragorn, who are you going to side with?" Boromir demanded. "Surely you don't think we should take the path that's most likely to kill us?" Frodo drummed his fingers against the floor.

"You're not going to argue with them?" Merry asked softly.

"No," Frodo said, his voice muffled by the floor. "I'm too short and quiet. They don't hear me."

"If they don't shut up soon, I'm going to get some stones," Sam growled, clapping his hands over his ears. "They've been at this for hours."

"I wonder what Gimli and Legolas are up to," Merry said. Turning back to the console, he sighed. "Pip's been awful quiet for the past few hours."

.o.

Pippin had tucked himself under the workbench in the engine room. It was just small enough for him to fit comfortably. Just what he needed.

"Come on," Pippin muttered to himself. His cheeks were wet with tears, his breathing hitched with the sobs. "Stop it." He smacked himself on the side of the head but it did nothing to stop the voices.

"_Fool would see the Ring taken by his father – shouldn't trust him – King, don't make me laugh – Wish they'd stop."_

"Just stop," Pippin begged himself quietly. "Just make it stop. He'll get mad at me again."

.o.

"_I brought you dinner." Pippin slid out from under the engine to see Boromir towering over him. The Man held a tin plate in his hand. Pippin could smell cold meat and oranges wafting down from it._

"_Thanks," he said, taking the plate from Boromir. "Anything interesting happening down there?" Boromir shrugged noncommittally, leaning against the wall._

"Father didn't listen."_ Pippin glanced up from his food at the thought from Boromir. _"Should have sent Faramir, not me." _Boromir didn't look down at Pippin with the thought._

"_Who's Faramir?" Pippin asked curiously. Boromir's eyes flashed down at him. "Sorry, I was just curious."_

"_Don't," Boromir growled. Stooping down, he grabbed fistfuls of Pippin's shirt. The two were nearly touching noses. Pippin swallowed hard as the sensation of fury and hatred washed over him. "Don't you_ ever_ read my mind. It's not your plaything, so stay out."_

"_I-I can't control it," Pippin whispered._

"_Then learn to," Boromir snarled. Giving Pippin a final shake, he shoved him down to the floor and stormed from the room. "Or you'll regret it." Pippin flinched at the images Boromir sent at him. The Man hated him for being Frodo's friend, even more for being a Reader. The tears came before Pippin could stop them. Crawling behind the engine, he sobbed quietly into his arms._

.o.

"_Can't take the path of Caradhras. Too dangerous."_ Pippin hit his head against the wall behind him. Boromir's voice was the most prominent of the eight other crew members. He couldn't stop himself from hearing it.

"Stop," Pippin begged himself. "Please."

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Bit of an awkward chapter title, but I couldn't think of anything else. Underhill's at it again! He's got evil plans and mysterious enemies._


	22. Palace Defeats

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Hobbit or the Lord of the Rings!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_I'm so sorry it took me such a long time to update. I've made up a list of reasons why. Here it is:_

_1. Writer's block (Seriously, whatever I wrote I hated until I got this idea during class today)_

_2. Netflix (I got addicted to Dollhouse and watched both seasons in three days. Addiction gone)_

_3. College (I had so much to do while I prepared to leave for college, packing and whatnot)_

_4. Class (I've got Tuesdays and Thursdays free. Once again, I work during the weekends)_

_5. Being unproductive (Literally, worst time ever yesterday)_

_Again, sorry about that! Also, I needed names so sue me! Actually, please don't. I don't have the money for it._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Palace Defeats<strong>

"_Soon you'll be dead."_

Bilbo woke suddenly with a gasp. His eyes flew open, his body tensed for an attack, and the adrenaline rushed through his veins. For several seconds he remained in his position on his back, his fingers clenching the sheets. His breaths came out in quiet gasps. The moment of terror passed and slowly his surroundings returned to him.

The sashes of the tall windows fluttered in the night breeze. Crickets chirped under the windowsills and the leaves in the garden rustled together. The dead leaves on the path sounded like hush footsteps across stone. To his left was the heavy breathing of Faramir. The Man had fallen asleep not long after Bilbo had, curled up on the other side of the bed.

"Just a dream," Bilbo breathed to himself. Uncurling his fingers, he flinched at the stiff sensation in them. "Just a dream, _Pundurith_." The Khuzdul word brought a sense of comfort to him, but only a bit. The word worked better when it was accompanied by a deep voice and protective arms.

Bilbo prodded gently at his stomach. The area where the wound had once been twinged slightly but otherwise was fine. The medical mites had done their job quickly and cleanly, as was expected of them. A nice pink scar would decorate his stomach, joining the others there like a painting canvas. Folding the sheets over, Bilbo rolled out of the bed. His feet hit the carpet softly. The soft material tickled his soles and sent a smile to his lips. He missed the days when he could spend time in rooms with carpeting. Now his entire life was running. It had been for seventeen years.

Bilbo padded across the room to his brown coat draped over the chair. Faramir had taken it to be cleaned for him, discretely paying the worker for silence. Digging through the pockets, Bilbo found the gadget he was looking for. It was a small device no larger than a deck of cards. The front was nearly entirely a screen which lit up when Bilbo brushed his thumb against it. A small shorthand keyboard popped up at the bottom of the screen. His thumbs brushing against the keys, Bilbo opened a frequency.

**Checkmate: Hailing Serenity.**

The message popped into view above the keyboard, surrounded by a small blue oval. The words floated there for a second before vanishing. The multiple firewalls of the device would prevent any unwanted eavesdroppers from listening in. Waiting for a second, Bilbo sighed in relief when words appeared on the screen in a red oval.

**Serenity: This is Serenity. How fares our dear player?**

**Checkmate: Tired.**

**Serenity: Nightmares again?**

**Checkmate: They're getting worse. I don't know how much of this I can handle.**

**Serenity: What did you dream about?**

**Checkmate: He was chasing me through the treasury again. He wanted to lock me in a box and keep me there.**

No response came from Serenity. For a moment Bilbo worried they had logged off. Then a new message appeared.

**Serenity: This is Idrial. Berethor came to get me. What is happening?**

**Checkmate: Bad dreams. He's chasing me again.**

**Serenity: Do you need an extraction?**

**Checkmate: No, that would delay my plans. I need Théodred to be ready when the time comes.**

**Serenity: There is no harm in taking a few days off for your own health. Your PTSD could get worse. You know the consequences.**

**Checkmate: You don't have to remind me. It happened before I met you.**

**Serenity: Did they tie you down too?**

**Checkmate: Nothing that drastic, just made me promise I wouldn't do it again. Don't know why you won't listen to me.**

**Serenity: Because I do not want to heal self-inflicted wounds anymore. You need help, Underhill. And do not dare respond to that with any sarcastic remarks. I will know.**

Bilbo frowned at the message. Trust Idrial to backtalk him. The Elf had always been more trouble then he'd expected her to be.

**Serenity: Meet me tomorrow somewhere crowded. We can talk.**

**Checkmate: Too dangerous. We need to remain incognito.**

**Serenity: Say that again and I will tell Gandalf where you are. He would have you back on that ship in a second.**

**Checkmate: And then we'd all be dead. Nice try, but I know you won't go through with it.**

**Serenity: No? Then I will tie to a bed and treat you like a prince. How does that sound?**

**Checkmate: Tempting, but no. Plans.**

**Serenity: Very well, meet me tomorrow morning. Do not tell me where; I will find you and then we will talk. Good night.**

The screen darkened with the conversation over. Bilbo's frown deepened. Sometimes it seemed like Idrial thought she was in charge of the entire operation.

_She's getting cocky, _a small voice said in the back Bilbo's mind. _She'll turn on you. Don't trust her._ Bilbo shook his head, trying to rid himself of the voice. It'd grown louder with each passing day. He knew the consequences of the voice. The last time he'd listened to it, it had led to a bullet in the shoulder. Only Idrial's intervention had stopped Bilbo from killing himself.

"Hammers and stones," Bilbo whispered desperately to himself. "Hammers and stones."

O.o.O

When Faramir awoke the next morning, Underhill was gone. The sheets on the _Perian's_ side of the bed had been folded back, the pillow fluffed and positioned against the headboard. All signs of the _Perian's_ visit was gone. No coat, no blood, and no _Perian_ to speak of. Faramir's heart pounded in his chest. Underhill had promised to stay for a few days in order to recuperate in peace. Faramir had trusted him to keep his promise.

Throwing the sheets back, Faramir rolled out of bed. His feet hit the carpet and pain stabbed his left foot. It traveled up his calf, making him hiss and lift his injured appendage. A look down revealed the culprit: a black knight atop an envelope. Bending down, Faramir swept the envelope up and ripped it open. The paper unfolded with hardly a crackle.

_Faramir,_

_ If you hurt yourself, sorry. I needed to place the letter somewhere I knew you'd find it immediately. _ – Faramir snorted at that. He'd give the _Perian_ a piece of his mind when Underhill got back. _If_ Underhill returned. – _I've gone out for the day. I'll be back before you fall asleep, so don't worry about me. Or, if you really want to, have a heart attack and get sent to the medical wing. I really don't care. Okay, scratch that. I do care, so don't have a heart attack, just a small panic attack. I digress. I've gone out, be back soon, and don't worry. Come find me if you want, I'll be in town._

_Underhill_

Crumpling up the letter and envelope, Faramir threw them in the incinerator. The metal trash can sealed shut, glowed red for a second, and then popped open again. All traces of the letter were gone but for the black chess piece. Underhill would take that with him when he left. It was a sign of visitation, and sometimes a request to stay over. Faramir knew the rules. There could be no sign of Underhill's visit. All letters had to be incinerated, all clothes cleaned, and all video cameras wiped of any images. Underhill was a ghost, a ghost wandering through the universe.

"_Good morning, Faramir,"_ a cool voice said as Faramir slid from the bed. He made his way toward the walk-in closet. _"You father is expecting you for meetings today."_

"Cancel the meetings," Faramir ordered. Grabbing a pair of trousers, he slipped out of his bed clothes and began to dress for the day. "I've got more important things to do."

"_You father has had this on the schedule for many weeks,"_ the AI argued. Faramir paused, one arm through a cotton shirt. Since when had the AI learned to debate? Faramir blamed Underhill. The _Perian_ had tampered with the computer system several years ago to allow Faramir changes when he needed them.

"_Tirith_," he said. The AI beeped once to show it was listening. "Would you like to play a game of chess?" A holographic screen flickered to life from a projector just inside the closet door. His day's schedule appeared, each appointment vanishing from the calendar. Underhill had programmed the keywords as an override system. _Tirith_ would obey any command Faramir had previously given it and then erase all signs of tampering. No one would be any the wiser.

"Tell Father I've gone out to train," Faramir ordered. "I needed some time alone after my last tour on Osgiliath."

"_Of course, Faramir,"_ _Tirith_ said obediently.

Slipping his boots on, Faramir drew the strings tight. He grabbed his sword, strapped it to his waist, and then left his bedroom. The door locked after him, preventing any intruders but for a Man and a certain _Perian_. Faramir had no idea where to begin looking, but he supposed the markets were as good a place as any.

O.o.O

One of the many cooks of the palace stepped aside as Thranduil ghosted past. She clutched the tray of food close to herself to prevent any of the food from spilling and bowed slightly. Thranduil offered the staff member a nod of recognition before he turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

"I have told you before, Brand," the Elf-King said into the transmitter's microphone. "Ask and it shall be given to you."

"_You've already done so much for us,"_ Brand argued, his voice crackling over the speaker. _"I can't possibly ask for anymore."_

"Nonsense," Thranduil said. Pausing beside a tall window, he clasped his hands behind his back. The gardens were filled with Elves and Hobbits alike, the two races working together to prune away the dying plants for winter. "You are currently in control of both Esgaroth and Dale. Ruling both is taking a toll on not only your health but your cities' as well. All I ask for in return is your total and unquestionable aid in the recuperation of the _Perian_." A guard marched past, nodding a greeting to his king. Thranduil returned it before continuing on down the hall.

"_And you have it,"_ Brand said. _"But I don't need your aid. We may be struggling a bit right now, but we can take care of it ourselves."_ Thranduil sighed to himself. _"We need to become self-reliant on our own."_

"Of course you do," Thranduil agreed. "But at the drop of a hat? Do you have any idea what that could do to your cities? They could collapse under the strain of self-dependence when a plague strikes or if your crops fail one year. I am not suggesting I give you aid one hundred percent. I can help you acclimate to a self-reliant system so you will not suffer needlessly. Remember, we have signed a contract that states by no means can I hold this against you."

"_Dain,"_ Brand groaned.

"_I'm not part of this argument,"_ the third member of their council said. _"My business at the moment has nothing to do with Dale or Esgaroth."_

"No, it does not," Thranduil agreed. "Lord Dain, would you be so kind as to tell your pilots they are _required_ to remain on my planet for routine maintenance checks on their ships. Too many of them leave once they bring _Perian_ in. The flight back to the Shire System is dangerous enough as it is without their ships falling apart." Dain sighed audibly through the speaker.

"_I've tried, you Forest Sprite,"_ the Dwarf said. Thranduil huffed in amusement at the title. Even in his old age the Dwarf still enjoyed insulting him. _"Each time the pilots say they'll do it then they disobey me."_

"Pass a law if you must," Thranduil urged. His free ear pricked up at the sound of pattering feet behind him. "We need those ships to stay intact."

"_I'll see what I can do,"_ Dain told him. _"If you'll send escorts with my men when they return to the Shire System. The Government has increased the border control."_

"Consider them yours," Thranduil said. A giggle drifted up from behind him. Turning slightly, Thranduil spotted a curtain blowing in a nonexistent breeze. "Now, if you will excuse me gentlemen, I have some familial matters to attend to."

"_Of course,"_ Brand said. _"I'll call later tonight if they aren't too much trouble."_

"I await it impatiently," Thranduil said, and the Man ended his side of the call.

"_I haven't seen the little tykes in months," _Dain grumbled. _"You send them over sometime soon to spend time with their godfather, you hear?"_

"Only with an army at their side," Thranduil said. Dain seemed to take it as an agreement and hung up. Removing the device from his ear, the Elf massaged his ear as he slipped the device into his pocket.

The curtain giggled again then shushed itself. Thranduil smiled to himself as he strode slowly down the hall. The curtain stilled its movement and he heard hushed giggles. Pausing beside the curtain, he wrapped his fingers around the edge.

"What have we _here_?" Thranduil said, yanking the curtain back with the last word. A shriek rose from the wall that turned into a high-pitched giggle. Thranduil smiled down at the pair of Hobbit twins. "Briar, Rose," he greeted his children. "Are you not supposed to be in your studies?" Rose pouted, crossed her arms, and stomped a foot. Thranduil took it to mean she didn't want to be there.

Briar and Rose were fraternal twins, Rose being the elder of the two. At least, that's what Thranduil and his medics could only guess. At seven years old, they stood just a little over two feet with Briar being the taller. Both had golden curls of sunshine that Rose insisted wearing loose around her shoulders and emerald eyes. They were orphans found on the Barrow Downs by Tom Bombadil, victims of an experiment done by the Government. Upon hearing of their predicament, Thranduil had adopted the siblings at once. They had been in his care for two years now and still neither of them spoke. The medics had suggested their lack of speech stemmed from the Governmental experiment. Thranduil couldn't argue with that.

Crouching to be at their level, Thranduil smiled at the twins.

"Briar," he said, and the younger of the twins flushed. "Why are you not at your studies? Do you not want to learn to read Sindarin and Khuzdul?"

"_Want be with you,"_ Briar signed sheepishly. Thranduil couldn't stop himself from chuckling. Rose huffed and stomped her foot again. Ruffling their hair, Thranduil stood. The two children stood barely at his knees, but the lack of height did nothing to stop their brave little attitudes.

"I will let you go this once," Thranduil told his children. Someone down the hall snorted. Everyone in the palace knew Thranduil had a soft spot for his sweet children. He let them off the hook for nearly all the trouble they caused. The Elf-King was not immune to Briar or Rose's pouting faces. "Would you two like to accompany me down to the reservation?" Thranduil asked.

"_Yes,"_ Rose signed immediately. Her Iglishmek was better than her Sindarin or Hobbitish sign language, but she did well enough. Briar was better at both Westron and Hobbitish than any of the others.

"Shall I carry you?" Thranduil asked. Briar immediately raised his arms and wiggled his fingers in an "up" request. Bending down, Thranduil lifted the small Hobbit onto his hip. Rose chose to twine her fingers through his robes, skipping alongside her father.

The small family of three made their way through the winding halls of the palace and into the gardens outside. Several Hobbits paused to shout greetings to the King and his children. A few even struck up conversations with Briar and Rose. Briar tucked his face away in his father's neck while Rose listened intently to the melodious tunes of the voices. Sometimes she hummed along with the speech, as though imitating her kin. After a rather long conversation with a Bracegirdle, Thranduil managed to get his children down to the docks. From there they boarded a shuttle that would take them down to the reservation.

"_Down,"_ Briar signed to his father once they were on the shuttle. Thranduil gave his son a reprimanding look. _"Down, please."_

"You need only ask,_ nîn_ _gilith_," Thranduil said, lowering his son to the floor. Briar and Rose climbed onto the window seats together to watch the forest fly by. Thranduil watched them fondly, his arms crossed over his chest. Legolas had accepted the siblings as only one could when they had no choice. Briar and Rose had proved from day one they didn't like Legolas, they _adored_ him. When home, Legolas found himself barraged by his new siblings for attention, sweets, and – perhaps too often – stories. Legolas bent to each request, ruffling their hair and laughing while Rose screeched with delight.

"_Pretty,"_ Rose signed, catching her father's attention. Thranduil hummed in a quiet question, something he'd found Briar and Rose answered well too. They delighted in their father's silent conversations when he indulged them. _"Trees are pretty,"_ Rose expanded on her original commented. _"Orange and gold. Want for room."_

"If it is a tree you want," Thranduil told his daughter. "Then perhaps a small one. A large tree would only cause trouble." Rose wrinkled her nose and sent her father a flurry of signs. "Ah, you want the colors. You just painted the room last week."

"_Want gold, not blue,"_ Rose signed, adding a pouting lip to her expression. Thranduil chuckled and shook his head in defeat. Rose celebrated with a happy squeal and little dance of her hips.

"And what of you, Briar?" Thranduil said, turning to his youngest child. "What color would you like your room painted?" Briar didn't seem to be paying attention, his focus entirely outside. "Briar?" Thranduil said. His son was well-known for falling into lapses of silence when memories washed over him and sometimes throwing entire temper tantrums for no reason other than the horrors of his past. "_Giliath,_ are you all right?"

"_I want stars,"_ Briar signed without turning around. _"Like child of stars."_ Thranduil froze, his eyes wide. He'd told his children plenty of stories about Bilbo, but never had he called the Hobbit by his nickname before them.

"What was that?" Thranduil asked softly. Briar seemed to shake himself of the stupor.

"_Green! Green like garden!"_

"Green," Thranduil said before swallowing. "Of course."

The Elven-King was grateful for the distraction when the shuttle entered the reservation's airspace. Briar and Rose hopped down from the window seat, Briar requesting up again. Thranduil obliged. A son on his hip and a daughter clinging to his clothes, the Elven-King made his way down the lowering ramp onto the tarmac. The warning lights atop the main buildings were flashing a brilliant green. A Khazad ship had entered the Woodland Realm's atmosphere and was making for the reservation.

"_Legolas?"_ Rose signed hopefully up at her father. _"Tauriel?"_

"I am afraid they will not be joining us," Thranduil said, and Rose's smile dropped from her face. "Legolas is busy helping some friends and Tauriel cannot visit right now."

"_Grounded,"_ Briar signed. Thranduil could only guess his son meant 'banished'. Neither of his children were good with such long words yet, though they tried their hardest. Smiling, Thranduil nuzzled his son's hair. He hadn't forbidden Tauriel from seeing the children. Sometimes Legolas would take them out when Tauriel was nearby and they'd spend the day together, but only with an escort of guards. Thranduil still hadn't forgotten about either Bilbo or Bainrîn.

"Lord Thranduil," someone shouted, and Thranduil glanced up. Fuinithil, the captain of the tarmac, was making his way toward the small family. "I had no idea you were coming down today. Had I known I would have prepared better accommodations for the little ones."

"Briar and Rose chose to ignore their studies," Thranduil said. Rose stifled her giggle, failing miserably. Fuinithil smiled at the bell-like sound. "They chose, instead, to come with me and greet their kin. Will the Dwarves take long?"

"See for yourself," Fuinithil answered, gesturing to the sky. Thranduil turned to see the small Khazad ship lowering itself onto the tarmac. Lights on the landing pad signaled its descent carefully, warning the pilot about the Elves nearby.

"Did they manage to find the _Perian_ on the belt?" Thranduil asked the captain curiously. "Lord Dain told me they knew an experiment was living there. They made a round of attacks to the inner moons when they detected the experiment on Hobbiton."

"If they found it then it should be coming in on this round," Fuinithil said. "I was told they had some maintenance issues. That is what took them so long to make the journey back." Thranduil snorted. If Dain would convince his pilots to stop on the Woodland Realm for a short while they wouldn't be having this problem.

The Khazad ship lowered itself successfully, having made this trip several times before, onto the tarmac. Thranduil waited patiently as the Elves of the tarmac communicated with the Dwarves inside. The ramp lowered but no Dwarves immediately exited. Fuinithil groaned aloud.

"A resister," the captain said, and Thranduil shook his head.

"Pardon me, my Lord," an Elf said as she sidled past him with her partner. The two made their way onto the ship. Several minutes later they returned, a screaming Hobbit writhing in their arms. He had to be middle-aged by their standards and screamed profanities and curses in Hobbitish. Thranduil winced, hoping his children were covering their ears. Briar snuggled closer against him.

"Take him to a holding cell," Fuinithil sighed as the two Elves carried the Hobbit past. "Bring him second breakfast and then we will see what we can do."

"Yes sir," one of the Elves said before disappearing toward one of the buildings. The Hobbit would be locked in a small suite to suit his needs until everything could be explained.

"He must be a father," Fuinithil commented. Thranduil frowned in confusion and the captain continued. "In my experience, the Hobbits only react like that when they are fathers. The mothers tend to just cry."

"Perhaps the Dwarves would be willing to make an extra trip," Thranduil said.

"Here they come," Fuinithil breathed.

Thranduil turned back to the Khazad ship. Several Dwarves made their way down the ramp. They moved in a loose formation surrounding nearly twenty Hobbits. Briar made a curious noise in the back of his throat while Rose tugged on Thranduil's robe. She pointed at the Hobbits and Dwarves, as if to say "look!". None of the Dwarves carried a single weapon on them. At least, not any Thranduil could see. They didn't wear armor. The reason was clear. The lack of armor and weapons were to lessen the intimidation on the Hobbits. The poor creatures had already been snatched up from their homes.

The Dwarves led the trembling Hobbits across the tarmac to Thranduil and Fuinithil. Rose leaned forward curiously, cooing quietly to herself. Thranduil placed a careful hand in her hair. He didn't need his daughter running off in curiosity at the moment. It'd only cause trouble.

"Lord Thranduil," one of the Dwarves said with a bow. Thranduil recognized it as Jarl, the captain of the Khazad ship.

"Captain Jarl," Thranduil gritted, bowing slightly. Briar squealed in surprise and wrapped his arms tightly around his father's neck. Thranduil straightened up again. Several of the Dwarves were quivering, their eyes trained on Briar. Each member of the many ships had fallen in love with Briar and Rose. They took every chance they could to play with the two Hobbits.

"We've brought the Hobbits," Jarl said, a bit unnecessarily. "Twenty-eight in all, some from Hobbiton and some from the Brandybuck Belt."

"What about the experiment?" Fuinithil asked hopefully. "I was told you were hunting one."

"Aye, but it's gone now," Jarl said. "We lost the signal the same day we made our strike. Thorin and his crew were there searching for something."

"I will send for some Elves to help with the transition," Thranduil said. Jarl bowed low once more. A strange clicking sound caught Thranduil's attention and he turned to his son. Having caught his father's attention, Briar stopped clicking his tongue. He tugged gently on Thranduil's robes, a request to be let down. Thranduil lowered the young Hobbit gently to the ground. Almost immediately the twins disappeared into the group of Dwarves. He wouldn't be seeing them for a while.

"Before you take them away, I have a request," Fuinithil said. Thranduil nodded, wincing when he heard Rose squeal happily.

The captain of the tarmac turned to the gathered Hobbits. He spoke in Hobbitish, his voice lacking the usual raising tones. Several of the Hobbits perked up curiously as they recognized the words. Thranduil himself only understood one word: Berilac. It sounded like a name. One particular Hobbit pushed forward through the group, his trembling hand raised. He had been dressed in Dwarvish clothes during the long trip over. The sleeves hung over his hands, shielding them. Fuinithil fished an envelope form his pocket then crouched down to hand the piece of paper over. Thranduil watched curiously as the Hobbit, Berilac, accepted the envelope gingerly.

"See to the _Perian_," Thranduil ordered Fuinithil once the captain straightened up. "I am going to see about his father." Turning on his heel, he marched toward the holding building.

.o.

_Berilac Brandybuck_

Berilac didn't recognize the handwriting. Indeed, he didn't think he'd seen it a single time in his life. It was a Hobbit's script, there was no mistaking that. The envelope itself was slightly heavy with a small bulge in it. According to the Elf, it had arrived for him a few weeks back. Curious, he carefully ripped the flap of the envelope open. Inside was a single slip of paper.

_Would you like to play a game of chess?_

His curiously turned to confusion as he tipped the envelope over. Into his hand fell a single black pawn.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Every time I tried to write a scene with the Fellowship it didn't work out. Then I got this idea in class today to check up on what was happening on the Woodland Realm. And then Briar and Rose came into being. I hope you liked it. I'll try to update tomorrow!_


	23. Aquarium Episodes

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good afternoon!_

_I'm SO sorry for such a late update. I had serious writer's block until this morning when I actually thought of an idea that could work. And, well, to put it bluntly: __Crossandra__infundibuliformus__ and __Aphelandera__squarrosa__. Yeah, I've got a quiz on Monday for Interior Plants. Again, sorry for the late updates. I've got some ideas, so I should be able to get you guys more chapters soon._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Aquarium Episodes<strong>

The aquarium was not one of Bilbo's most favorite places to visit. The paths were overcrowded, the screaming children were too loud, and the proximity of bodies was too _close_. It aggravated his paranoia and generally made him cranky. He couldn't keep an eye on everything going on around him at once. Anyone could sneak past him unnoticed, take advantage of the situation and attack, or – even worse – _he_ could see. Even in crowds such as these. He had had eyes everywhere. The amount of people would matter to him. They never had. Still, the crowds were safer than nothing. He could disappear at the drop of a hat and no one be any wiser.

And so it was Bilbo found himself standing in the midst of the crowded aquarium on a chilly Saturday afternoon. He watched the visitors sweep past him in droves: young lovers swinging their held hands back and forth, parents dragging their screaming children through the park, and security guards marching through their rounds and keeping an eye on everything. No one looked twice at the Hobbit standing against the tool shed with his hands in his pockets.

_You should really be careful with her._ Bilbo tried to ignore the small voice in his head, but in moments such as these – where crowds surrounded him and he had no way of escape – it seemed reasonable in what it said. _She could take advantage of you. She's been doing it for a while now._

"Shut up," Bilbo muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. A young child, perhaps seven or eight, glanced his way before tugging at his mother's hand and pointing at him. Sighing, Bilbo shoved off the tool shed and slipped into the crowd. He couldn't stay in one place for too long. It was the hazard of living on the run.

The crowds parted for Bilbo like a sea of beads. No one seemed to notice him weaving his way in and out of the long legs. Indeed, he even jabbed someone in the thigh and they didn't react. They simply shifted out of his way, helping him achieve his goal. He wandered this way and that through the crowds, mingling amongst the larger groups of children, before he finally reached his destination: the shark tank. Visitors _oohed_ and _aahed_ over the great beasts moving slowly through the water. Bilbo managed to make his way toward the front where he could see clearly. A bull shark drifted past, a long scar running down its nose. Bifur had always kept his boar spear sharp as possible. It made for a deadly weapon.

"Mama, what's wrong with that shark?" a small girl to his left asked. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo followed her pointing finger toward a cookie cutter shark. Its dorsal fin had a small bend in it, as though someone had forced it at the wrong angle. Of course, Bilbo thought to himself, the shark was lucky Dori just threw it across the tank and didn't outright kill it.

"Maybe it got into a fight with one of the other sharks," the mother suggested, and Bilbo snorted. Yeah, right. The tiger shark moving about at the bottom of the tank bashed its flattened nose against the glass. Nope, blame a couple of Dwarves.

_Ping_. Bilbo's ear twitched as the silver transmitter in his canal trilled. Someone was messaging him through his communicator. Reaching slowly into his pocket, he withdrew the small device and swiped his thumb across the screen. The shorthand keyboard and messaging screen flickered to light.

**Eclipse: Berilac has arrived. I've delivered the message.**

Bilbo smiled to himself. His cousin's arrival couldn't have been better. If Berilac accepted his role, he would play an important part in this war against the Government.

**Eclipse: Do I send Mallorn in to intercept and explain.**

**Checkmate: Leave it to Estella. Berilac will get along better with someone of his own race.**

**Eclipse: Roger that.**

**Checkmate: Have Ninglor and Mallorn check up on them once in a while. I need to know Berilac's movements won't be noticed by Thranduil.**

**Eclipse: My lord suspects nothing.**

**Checkmate: Good.**

**Eclipse: Would you like me to tell Estella?**

**Checkmate: No, I'll tell her now.**

**Checkmate: #Gadgetreadthis: visit Berilac at his new smial and update the firewalls on all systems (paradox labyrinth). Good luck to both of you.**

**Eclipse: Stay safe, Underhill.**

**Gadget: Godspeed!**

Bilbo double-tapped the screen and it went black. The messages would float away into the blue yonder, never to be seen again. That is, unless Bilbo asked Estella to fetch one for him. The technology-loving Hobbit could surf the Roots without using a computer and even access technology from anywhere to look into its mainframe or build firewalls. Every day, Bilbo thanked Eru that Tom Bombadil had rescued Estella from the Barrow Downs. She'd ended up being an important part of his fight.

A flash of red caught Bilbo's eye. Freezing on the spot, the Hobbit slowly slipped the communicator back into his pocket while keeping an eye on the crowd. There it came again. The tail of a familiar red coat flickered nearby. They'd found him.

Turning on the spot, Bilbo slowly began to make his way through the crowd. The bodies that had once moved so easily for him were now too close together. They hindered his progress of leaving the shark tank. Somewhere behind him he could hear footsteps, soft against the cement paths. His heart constricted in fear. This was not good, not good at all. One last shove through the crowd helped Bilbo escape the mass of bodies. Someone grunted but no one shouted at him. He scanned the area around himself quickly before making his way toward the dolphin exhibits. Those paths were normally crowded enough to blend in and shake off any followers.

The footsteps grew closer as he crossed the colorful intersection of paths. Someone called out to him. At least, that's what it sounded like. He couldn't quite tell in the hustle and bustle of the crowds. Speeding up, Bilbo broke into a run. The speed ruined his natural ability to blend in as he shoved his way through crowds. Visitors shouted after him. Children laughed and pointed to see the strange child running through crowds. Bilbo ignored them all, shoving his way past groups of people mingling outside the tanks.

They caught him around the bend of the dolphin paths. He darted around the corner, not thinking ahead. Two tall patrons heading his way doubled over. Bilbo didn't see them until their hands had wrapped around his arms. Together, the two Men lifted him off the ground.

"Let go!" Bilbo screeched, twisting in their grips. One of the Men grunted but held on. Ice ran through Bilbo's veins. They'd caught him. He couldn't escape now. Opening his mouth, he screeched loudly. The muscular of the two Men cursed and released his arm to cover his mouth with a hand. Bilbo's screech cut off against the leather glove and he returned to struggling, using his free arm to slap at the shorter Man.

"Calm down," one of the Men grunted. Bilbo aimed a kick his way and missed.

"Underhill," the muscular Man growled. His free hand grabbed at the nape of Bilbo's neck. Bilbo squealed, twisting at his arm.

"You will dislocate his arm," a soft voice warned. Gentle hands landed on Bilbo's shoulders and the Hobbit froze. Warms puffs of air tickled his ears as the woman spoke. "Would you like to play a game of chess?" she whispered. Bilbo's struggles stilled. The trigger words sent a feeling of security through him. The hands holding him gently relaxed until they released him altogether. The taller of the two Men drew his hand away from Bilbo's mouth.

"What's going on here?" someone shouted. A security guard.

The hand at the base of Bilbo's neck released him to grab the collar of his jacket. Bilbo allowed the Man to drag his brown coat off. The shorter of the two lifted him up onto his hip. Wrapping his arms around the Man's neck, Bilbo hid his face in the Man's shoulder.

"I am sorry, sir," the woman said, straightening up. Peeking out from his hiding place, Bilbo spotted Idrial the Elf smiling warmly to the security guard. "I am afraid our son missed his nap. It has made him a bit cranky. He got away from us near the shark tank."

"I've never seen you around here before," the security guard commented, and Bilbo stiffened. Elegost, the Ranger holding him, rubbed soothing circles in his back.

"You don't even recognize me?" the second Man asked. Bilbo smiled to himself. Sometimes it helped to have a Gondorian Man on his team.

"Berethor," the security guard said, sounding surprised. "I had no idea you were back on Minas Tirith. I thought you were on patrol in the Ithilien airspace."

"I took a leave of absence to visit my godson," Berethor lied. "We thought we'd enjoy some time together at the aquarium today."

"All right then, sorry for disturbing you. Enjoy your stay."

Bilbo listened to the footsteps retreat back down the path. He waited until Elegost shifted him higher up onto his hip before he straightened up. Idrial watched him with a soft smile while Berethor looked on with a pitiful expression.

"I'm sorry about that," Bilbo said truthfully. "I didn't mean to do that."

"We don't blame you, Underhill," Elegost said. The trio began to make their way through the dolphin exhibits. The other patrons didn't look twice at them now that the excitement was over. Berethor draped Bilbo's brown coat over his arm.

"Now," Idrial said, stepping up between Elegost and Berethor. "What was this nightmare you had?"

O.o.O

Faramir almost intervened when he saw the Elf chasing Underhill. He stood on the upper catwalk of the monorail. From high above he watched the entire chase happen. When the two Men grabbed Underhill by the arms, his hand flew to his hidden knife and he prepared to jump into the fight. A firm hand grabbed his elbow.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a stern voice warned. Whirling about, Faramir found himself facing a well-built woman with brown pigtails and a scowl. She wore a familiar pair of beige pants and the same brown coat as Underhill. The woman regarded him for a moment before she withdrew her hand.

"Morwen of the Thirteenth Éored," she introduced.

"Faramir, Captain of the Guard," Faramir said hesitantly. Morwen watched him for another long moment before reaching into her coat's pocket. She withdrew a black queen, showing the chess piece to him, and Faramir relaxed slightly.

"We're on the same team," she said as she returned the chess piece to her pocket. The monorail screeched into the station, coming to a complete stop only a few feet away from them. "Ride with me," Morwen ordered. Faramir glanced over his shoulder worriedly to see a security guard talking to the group down there. "That wasn't a suggestion."

Sparing Underhill one more look, Faramir allowed the Rohan woman to lead him into an empty monorail cart. They seated themselves on opposite sides of the car. Faramir remained tense in his seat, unsure of this new warrior. The doors had just begun to slide shut when a Man slipped between them. Faramir's hand flew to his hidden knife once more but Morwen stopped him with a raised hand.

"Eaodan," she snapped at the newcomer. "I told you I could handle this."

"Hadhod's getting annoying," Eaodan griped. Faramir looked between the two warriors, confused. Both were clearly from the Rohan System, judging by their outfits, but neither seemed to fit in with the typical stereotype of Underhill's team. They seemed more like the musclemen than spies or hackers.

"Eaodan, guard of the Riddermark," Eaodan introduced himself, settling down on the seat beside Morwen. The woman shifted away from him slightly.

"Faramir, Captain of the Guard," Faramir repeated himself with a nod of his head. "Who are you two?"

"We're Underhill's black queens," Eaodan said, as though that made any sense. Faramir frowned, looking between the two Rohirrim.

Morwen scowled at Eaodan before turning to Faramir. "What he means to say is that we're his guards," she explained. "Underhill has too many duties in this universe to worry for his own safety. That's where we come in. We dog his footsteps and watch the shadows for anything suspicious."

"Why didn't you intervene down on the path, then?" Faramir asked worriedly. His fingers drifted toward his pocket where the black knight was stored.

"They're part of our team," Morwen continued. "Idrial, Elegost, and Berethor are part of our crew on _Serenity_. Hadhod the Dwarf is as well." At this, she scowled at Eaodan who just shrugged. "He's better left supervised, otherwise he starts picking fights."

"He wouldn't shut up about his sons," Eaodan muttered under his breath.

"That's no reason to abandon him," Morwen snapped at him. "We're all going to hear about it later this evening."

"Why do you call yourselves Underhill's black queens?" Faramir asked, interrupting an oncoming argument. Eaodan settled back on his seat and crossed his arms, seemingly preparing for a nap. "He doesn't play a role in this fight except for the player."

"That's where you're wrong," Morwen said. "Underhill doesn't think he belongs on the chessboard, but he's wrong. We on _Serenity_ see his role as a black king. It is our duty as his black queens to protect him, including from himself."

"From himself?" Faramir repeated faintly.

"Aye, Underhill is a danger to himself," Morwen said. She glanced out the window at the flying colors passing them by. "Idrial first met when he shot himself in the shoulder." Faramir's eyes widened in shock. "Has Underhill told you about the experiment?"

"No."

"Then you might as well know. Underhill was an experiment of the Government. He can absorb information and process it faster than the average person. The side-effects are extreme paranoia and distrustfulness that leads to eventual suicide."

"He's attempted four times since I've known him," Eaodan said, keeping his eyes shut. "Each time we've saved his life."

"What causes the paranoia?" Faramir asked. "I haven't seen it."

"You did today," Morwen said. "The chase you just witnessed was caused by Underhill's paranoia. Underhill disguises it well, but it comes in out moments of fits where he'll flee anyone who comes close to him. His ability causes him to misinterpret information sometimes. A single action or misused word could be a signal to him that you're a danger to his life. The suicide is caused when Underhill's in a strange area without any friends nearby. He begins to see enemies in everyone without any escape."

"Other than suicide," Faramir said softy, and Morwen nodded sadly. "Is he the only _Perian_ to react this way?"

"No," Eaodan said. "None of the other Holbytla survived the experiment."

"Underhill isn't always like this," Morwen warned. "On _the Arkenstone_ his paranoia and PTSD wasn't a problem. His crew members knew how to deal with him."

"The same crew members who are chasing him?" Faramir nodded. Morwen nodded again. "Then why doesn't he return to them? I don't understand."

"He tried once," Morwen said. Sighing, she tugged at one of her pigtails. "That was the year his friends went to Moria to find him. We haven't heard from them since."

O.o.O

". . . and then he dropped me in the crate and locked it," Bilbo finished. Idrial frowned, swirling the cup of tea in her hand with a straw. The four of them had stopped to get coffee and tea, though Bilbo was forced to get an ice cream cone with his disguise of a child. The frozen treat had already begun to drip down his hands.

"You've been away for too long," Berethor commented. "Come back to the ship for a few days." He scanned the crowds as he spoke, sitting backward on the picnic table they'd taken. Elegost sat on Bilbo's other side, a steaming cup of coffee before him.

"I can't," Bilbo argued. "I have to get to the Rohan System and talk to Théodred. I've already missed Berilac's arrival."

"Berilac?" Idrial repeated in confusion. "Who is he?"

"A distant cousin from the Shire System," Bilbo explained with a wave of his hand. Elegost reach over with a napkin to wipe melted ice cream from the other one. Bilbo had been too distracted to even notice. "He's a Brandybuck."

"What's his role?" Berethor asked.

"He's going to help me rally the troops," Bilbo said. "I need the Hobbits on the Woodland Realm to help me."

"Is Ninglor in on this?" Idrial asked immediately, and Bilbo nodded.

"Ninglor, Fuinithil, Mallorn, and Estella; they're all going to help me with Berilac."

"Have you sent him a message yet?" Elegost asked.

"I haven't had the time. Fuinithil just told me Berilac's arrived."

"You'd better do that soon then," the Ranger suggested. "You can't procrastinate too much."

"I know," Bilbo said. "I'm going to spend a few days with Faramir and then I'll head on to the Rohan System. Tail me?"

"Of course," Idrial answered. Reaching forward, she wrapped a warm hand around Bilbo's. "Until you can return home, _Hên ned in Giliath_, we will stay by your side."

"Except when you disappear and don't tell us," Elegost said with a frown. Berethor grunted in agreement. "Where'd you go, Underhill?"

Flushing slightly, Bilbo fiddled with the ice cream cone in his hands. "Moria," he answered truthfully. "I had to try and get in."

"Again?" Idrial sighed. "Moria is too dangerous of a place for you to go."

"Tell me about it," Bilbo muttered under his breath. "I got shot by an Orc before I even reached the front gates." Berethor choked in surprise and Elegost's scowl deepened. "I know, I know. I'm not going to try it again. At least, not yet."

"Wait for a few more weeks," Idrial suggested gently. "You can search for your friends when the board has been set more."

"I just don't even know if they're alive anymore," Bilbo said, running a hand over his face. Elegost tugged the melted ice cream cone from his hand and tossed it in a nearby trashcan before handing him a napkin. "There's no messages from them or anything."

"Perhaps the Lady Galadriel could help," Idrial said, and Elegost hummed in agreement. "She has already helped you enough by sending your dreams to Frodo."

"Maybe later," Bilbo said. "Right now I need to focus on the problem at hand. Berethor, could I have my communicator?" The Man reached into the small coat in his lap for the gadget and handed it over. Swiping his thumb across the screen, Bilbo typed out a quick message then sent it. A new message popped up on the screen.

**Hacker: They're taking the path through Caradhras. I won't be able to get to Boromir for a short while.**

Bilbo frowned to himself. Of course there had to be a wrench in his plans somewhere. Having Boromir on his team sooner than later would be a bit more helpful.

**Checkmate: Catch him the first chance you can. I need Boromir.**

**Hacker: Roger that.**

**Checkmate: #Gadgetreadthis: Don't greet Berilac just yet. Give him a few days to set in.**

**Hacker: What?**

**Checkmate: Right, didn't tell you. Estella's a technopath who goes by the codename "Gadget". I send messages to her through any other conversations I have going on. She puts tech on the fritz when she handles it.**

**Gadget: Thanks, Underhill, for telling her that. I'll visit Berilac in a few days. That should give you enough time to tell him anything else you need to.**

"Any good news?" Berethor asked once Bilbo handed the communicator back to him.

"Not really," Bilbo answered. "Tauriel still can't get a hold of Boromir. She'll need to soon before my plans fall through."

"This will work," Idrial said firmly. "Your plans always work." Bilbo gave her an exasperated look. "Apart from the occasional chaos that happens. As for your dream . . . do not let it bother you. Nothing will touch you so long as we are nearby."

"I know," Bilbo mumbled. "I'm just worried it'll come true one day."

"Not a chance," Berethor said before straightening up. "Hadhod!" He leapt out of his seat and Bilbo twisted around to watch the Man disappear down a path.

"Another great day with Hadhod," Elegost sighed. "That Dwarf will be the death of me."

"Are you returning to Faramir tonight?" Idrial asked Bilbo, and he nodded. "Try and get some sleep tonight. Let us know when you are leaving and we will follow you."

"Will do," Bilbo said. Turning around on the bench, he scooted off it and bent down to swoop his coat up from the ground. The brown coat flapped through the breeze as he pulled it on. "If you will excuse me, I think I'll slip away into the crowd."

"Good luck, Underhill," Idrial said. Bilbo gave her a small bow then turned on his heel and stepped into the jostling crowds of the aquarium. He hated crowds.

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_A first-hand look at what Bilbo's paranoia looks like and we get to meet another crew of misfits! What fun. Also, I'm just using names mostly. I create my own histories for characters. I'll try to update soon._


	24. Bar Fights

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_Since I was cruel and didn't give you anything for a week and a half, I wrote two chapter in one day._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Bar Fights<strong>

The knock came a few hours after second breakfast and only moments before elevensies. Berilac Brandybuck glanced up from where he had already begun boiling the tea. The knock came again and he frowned. He'd only been in this strange reservation for three days. Few Hobbits had attempted to approach him yet. In fact, they seemed to be giving him as much space as he needed to settle in, and then some. Why a Hobbit would be approaching him now was beyond him.

"Pretty please let me in," a sweet voice called through the heavy wooden door. "I have chocolate chip cookies." Only the thought of cookies convinced Berilac to hesitantly open the door of his small, one-roomed _smial_.

In the doorway stood a lass just barely out of her tweens. She was a pretty thing with auburn ringlets that fell down to her waist. A golden kerchief tied around her forehead kept the unruly bangs back out of her twinkling green eyes. Though she was rather thin by Hobbit standards, she made up for it with her heart-shaped face and dimples. Not to mention the tray of chocolate chip cookies in her hands. Judging by the moisture on the tray, they'd just come out of the oven. Berilac's eyes hovered momentarily over the scars that peeked around her neck.

"Good morning," the lass said, flashing a winning smile at Berilac who could only blink. "I'm Estella Bolger."

"Berilac Brandybuck," Berilac said dumbly. They stood like that for several seconds, both staring at each other. Estella continued to beam at Berilac, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

"May I come in?" Estella eventually asked, not missing a beat. The words jolted Berilac back into the manners he'd been taught by his mother.

"O-Of course," he said. Stepping aside, he ushered the Hobbit lass indoors. The door swung shut after her and latched with a click. Estella turned on the spot to flash Berilac yet another winning smile.

"Where should I put the cookies?" she asked. Berilac, still silently bemused, pointed toward the kitchen. Estella disappeared into the room with a flick of her skirts. Berilac followed her, watching as she placed the tray carefully on the table. "I thought I might be the first Hobbit to formally welcome you to Paradise," Estella said as she turned to look at Berilac.

"Paradise?" Berilac repeated. This whole kidnapping business was still unnerving to him. There he had been, minding his own business, when a Dwarf had suddenly snatched him from the ground and taken him away.

"Well, that's what Lord Thranduil calls it," Estella said. Leaning forward, she spoke in a whisper, as though sharing a secret. "Though we all call it the Garden."

"The Garden?"

"Oh come on, don't tell me you're just going to repeat everything I say," Estella pouted, dropping her smile. Berilac frowned at her. "My mother taught me never to eat spoiled vegetables." The frown turned into a scowl. "All right, then say something."

"Something," Berilac said.

"Oh, I like back talkers as much as the next Hobbit," Estella warned, and Berilac shifted uncomfortably. It was a well-known fact in the Shire System that back talkers were not appreciated and dealt with quickly. "Do you mind if I stay for elevensies?" Estella suddenly asked. "It's just that . . . this was the best time I could come and I'm visiting my brother for dinner."

"You have a brother?" Berilac asked. "Who?" The name Bolger was common enough, but he'd never heard of an Estella before.

"Of course," Estella said, brightening up. "Fredegar Bolger, although I've heard his friends call him 'Fatty'."

"Fredegar never told me he had a sister," Berilac said. "I've never even heard of you before."

"You wouldn't have," Estella sighed. She shifted slightly on the chair, fixing her skirts. "I was taken away to the Barrow Downs the day I was born for experimentation. I was rescued thirteen years ago by Tom Bombadil and Underhill." Berilac remained where he stood in the doorway of the kitchen. The name of the Barrow Downs sent an icicle of fear through his heart. No one ever spoke of that planet. It was said to be haunted.

"Please sit down," Estella said. "You're giving me a crick in my neck." Berilac sat obediently in the chair across from her at the table. "I'll take of the tea." The Hobbit lass stood and began bustling around the kitchen to prepare the tea. Berilac's eyes fell on the scars at the back of her neck. From this angle, he could see they all originated from the base of her neck.

"I don't suppose anyone's told you the truth about anything yet," Estella commented, catching Berilac's attention. He shook his head slowly and she sighed. "Of course they didn't. Well, I suppose I'll have to be the one. My name's Estella Bolger. Until I was twenty, I lived my entire life as an experiment on the Barrow Downs."

"What are you talking about?" Berilac asked. "The Barrow Downs is just a haunted place." Estella graced him with the ghost of a smile. "Right?"

"Wrong," she said. "The Barrow Downs is an experimental site for the Government. They've been controlling the Shire System for the past few hundred years, using us." Berilac cocked his head, taking in the information. "You're a Brandybuck, right? So you have some idea there's something wrong in the System."

"My mam and da were always talking about it," Berilac admitted. "I wasn't sure what they meant until the Dwarves came. They kept trying to tell us on the flight over they were trying to help."

"They're not lying," Estella said. Placing two cups of steaming tea on the table, she sat down across from Berilac. "Everything about your life is about to change. I believe you got one of these." She reached into the pocket of her dress and drew out a black bishop. Berilac stared at it for a second before reaching into his pocket. He showed her the black pawn.

"There was a note with it," Berilac told her. "It said: -."

"Would you like to play a game of chess," Estella recited, and Berilac nodded. "It's the same message Underhill sends to everyone he wants to join his group. He sent one to a Hobbit before you, but the Hobbit turned it down."

"What message was that, though?" Berilac asked. "I don't understand it."

"Didn't you get his second message?"

"What second message?"

"Oh, great," Estella huffed. "I suppose no one set up the technology in this _smial_ for you or showed you how to use it."

"No."

"Lovely. Well, promise you won't freak out?" Berilac nodded slowly. "Great, let's see you keep that promise." Propping her elbow on the table, Estella rested her chin in hand. Her eyes glazed over, as though she was thinking very hard about something.

Several things happened at once. Multiple beeps echoed throughout the halls of the _smial_. The computer screen in the kitchen lit up at the same time the small television in the sitting room did. Multiple loading windows flashed across the computer screen as it set up for its first use. Numbers and lines dashed across the screen before it fell into a numbing blue shade. Berilac stared at the screens in shock, his mouth hanging open. He'd never seen something like that happen before. Estella smiled faintly at him before snapping her finger. The kitchen's computer whined once before a projector lit up. A holographic screen flickered into view before Berilac. It flitted through the screens until a message stood before him.

_Hello Berilac,_

_ My name is Underhill, and I'm fighting for our System. The Government of the Free Peoples is taking advantage of us and this needs to stop. I need your help with this war. Your job is simple: rally the Hobbits of the Garden. I need them on my side for the when the time comes. Estella, Ninglor, Mallorn, and Fuinithil will all help you. You won't be alone._

_Godspeed,_

_Underhill_

"Who is Fuinithil?" Berilac asked, his mind numb with this short message.

"The Elf captain of the tarmac," Estella said. "Ninglor and Mallorn are his wives." At Berilac's stunned expression, she explained. "Normally Elves only marry once. This time it was an accident, sort of. Fuinithil and Ninglor were originally married. Fuinithil is from the Woodland Realm while Ninglor's from Rivendell. They were married for a few centuries before Ninglor went off to battle. She was declared MIA by the Government afterward. After a few years, Fuinithil turned in the paperwork declaring his wife dead since she hadn't returned. Seventy years later he met Mallorn of Lothlórien and chose to take her as a second wife to stave off his loneliness. Well . . . sixty years after _that_, Ninglor turned up on the doorstep alive and well. They talked it over and agreed Fuinithil and Mallorn would file for a divorce. But the paperwork got so confused and they can't get it straightened out."

"So now he has two wives?" Berilac asked in disbelief.

"Aye, and they're the sweetest women you will ever meet. At least, Mallorn is. Ninglor is nice enough, when she isn't glaring daggers into your skull."

"What about you?" Berilac asked. "What did you just do there, with the technology?"

"I'm a technopath," Estella explained. "My brain has been modified with technology so that I can communicate with them. If I ever touch them, though," at this she sighed. "They go on the fritz and shut down. I have to do everything wirelessly."

"Could you start from the beginning?" Berilac asked weakly. "And I mean from the _very_ beginning."

O.o.O

_The End of All Time_ was not the nicest bar on Archet. It didn't match up to either _the Prancing Pony_, _the Green Dragon_, _the Ivy Bush_, or _the Unnamed Villain_. The lighting was dim, at best, and the entire bar smelled of sweaty bodies and day-old ale. The wicker chairs creaked when the patrons – who were normally a rowdy and raunchy group – sat on them. The pool tables glitched most of the time, the poker-bots failed halfway through the games, and the alcohol could be counted on being nearly out of date before the owner poured it out. But it was the only place P.J. would willingly meet with the crew of _the Arkenstone_ over the poor internet.

Thorin watched his youngest nephew, Gloin, and Dwalin play pool with a few of the other patrons through the flickering digi-screen. Bombur, Bofur, and Nori were off somewhere else enjoying themselves with an out-of-date radio. Only Dori and Fili sat in the secluded booth with Thorin, waiting for their contact to call them.

"Do you think they'll call?" Fili asked in a hushed voice. Thorin glanced at his nephew out of the corner of his eye. Fili had a mug of stinking whiskey in his hand, the only drink Thorin would allow him to have. It looked the freshet from the bottles he could see. Dori had opted for a tankard of ale, each sip earning a foul face.

"He has never missed a call before," Thorin answered. The single light of their square booth flickered. Thorin glanced up, watching as the floating bulb filled with dim light once more. The cracked computer screen screwed into the wall crackled to life. Twisting in his seat, Thorin faced the call.

P.J. was a paunchy, middle-aged Man who owned his own private moon in Mahal knew where and drank a ridiculous amount of tea. He refused to tell anyone what moon he lived on, as he believed that would give away all his secrets. Bofur had met him several years back when they'd visited this very bar. P.J. had been their technological genius and personality profiler for the last thirty years. Thorin had hired P.J. on as a consultant only a few months after Bilbo had run. None of his advice had driven them off course yet.

"_C-Can you h-hear me?"_ P.J.'s voice popped and crackled over the age-old speaker. _"B-Barely see y-you."_

"We can hear you just fine, P.J.," Thorin said. Scooting down the bench, he moved closer to the screen. "We need to find Martin."

"_C-Course you d-do,"_ P.J. all but laughed. _"Best m-man f-for the j-job."_

"Does that mean you've seen him recently?" Dori asked hopefully. P.J. spun his chair around to another screen, his image breaking up into miniscule bytes. Some remained where they were while others continued to move about. Scowling, Thorin slapped a hand against the screen. It went black for a second before popping back into view.

"Thorin," Fili hissed. "Don't touch the already bad tech. This is the only booth we've got right now."

"_G-Gondor S-System," _P.J. said as he turned back around, apparently having not noticed Thorin slap the screen. _"Arrived f-four d-days ag-go. Stayed f-for th-three days bef-fore leaving."_

"Do you know where he was heading?" Thorin asked urgently.

P.J. consulted a screen to his left. _"Head-ding east t-toward Rohan-n Syst-tem,"_ he answered. The profiler in him kicked in and he analyzed the situation before Thorin even had to ask. _"J-Judging b-by previous attit-tudes, he's heading f-for the Rid-derkmark."_

"The Riddermark," Fili repeated dumbly. "What does he need in the Riddermark?"

"_B-Beats me."_

"Where is his most recent location?" Thorin asked firmly. P.J. checked the screen once more.

"_T-Two or three d-days out-tside Dol Amroth."_

"That'd be a two day flight with the _Eagles_," Fili said softly. "We'd be there by the evening."

"Thank you, P.J.," Thorin said. "We will take it from here."

"_Hap-py to help. Send me the tab-b."_

The screen blacked out before anyone could say anything more. Thorin swore under his breath, cursing the terrible Wi-fi networks in the bar. Outside the booth, someone shouted in a drunken rage. A patron marched past, swinging a pool stick around dangerously. The digi-screen flickered as Bofur knocked on it. Nori stood beside him, the epitome of annoyance and anxiety.

"Thorin," Bofur's voice warbled through the digi-screen. "Got somethin' fer ya to hear. Let us in." Sighing through his nose, Thorin leaned over and pressed the release button. The near-black screen snapped back to its base like a curtain. "Thanks," Bofur said, falling into booth seat beside Thorin. Nori shoved Fili and Dori down before sitting down. Bofur pulled the screen back across and latched it.

"What did you find?" Thorin asked.

"Nori and I were messing around," Bofur said, waving the old radio through the air. It resembled a gothic-style vintage radio from the twentieth century of the Solar System. The dials had since been updated and many of the old screens replaced with new up-to-date versions.

"If this is another one of your frequency raves," Dori said. "Then get out." He waved a hand toward the digi-screen. "I can hardly breathe over here."

"Shut it, Dori," Nori snapped furiously. His older brother balked for a moment before preparing to yell at him. "This is about Balin, Oin, and Ori."

"What about them?" Thorin asked immediately.

"Listen," Bofur argued. Setting the vintage radio set on the sticky table, he twisted a few dials on the machine. The familiar crackling voice of Ori popped in and out of the speakers.

"_Ar-rived . . . ago . . . searched around gate . . . thing . . . trap . . . waiting . . . us . . . Oin . . . watcher . . . Balin . . . Mirrormere . . . Dale . . . Mazarbul . . . Shadows . . ."_ Dori opened his mouth to speak with the long pause but Nori shushed him. _"W-We can't get out,"_ the first clear sentence Ori spoke was in a trembling voice. _"They're coming. Mother, help me."_ The words cut off there before winding around in a loop. Dori bit into his knuckles, trying to stifle the sob. Thorin stared at the radio for a brief moment of silence.

"Turn it off, Bofur," he croaked. The engineer obediently flipped the dials and Ori's voice cut off. No one spoke for several moments. Dori sobbed softly into his hands. Fili stared at the radio, a horrified look in his eyes. His friend of over eighty years had just given him what could only have been described as his last words.

"We have to go to Moria," Nori said in a soft voice. Thorin sighed and leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I-I have to know."

"We know where Bilbo is," Thorin said. "He's in the Gondor System heading for the Rohan System. We can cut him off at Dol Amroth."

"What about Ori?" Nori hissed. "And Oin and Balin? Are you just going to leave them to rot in those mines?"

"No," Thorin answered, trying to keep his voice steady. "You, Dwalin, Kili, Bofur and I will head to Dol Amroth to try and head Bilbo off. Fili, you lead the rest of the crew to the Mines of Moria and try to find your way through the mines. See if you can't find Oin, Balin, and Ori."

"Ori's my brother," Nori snapped. "I should go with them."

"You are one of my best marksmen," Thorin retorted. "I need you if my plan is going to work. If we catch Bilbo then we can be back on the ship before _the Arkenstone_ even reaches Moria." Nori sat back in his seat, crossing his arms and looking away.

"Ori," Dori whispered to himself.

"We'll find him," Fili assured him. "We'll find all of them. Don't worry." Dori sobbed into his hands. The sound broke Thorin's heart.

"So," said Nori stiffly. "Who's going to tell Dwalin and Gloin?" Something outside the digi-screen shattered. Thorin glanced up in time to see the seat of a barstool fly past.

"During or after the bar fight they just started?" Fili asked.

O.o.O

Legolas ducked his way between the hammocks, mentally checking off the members of the Fellowship. Both Gandalf and Gimli had retired early for the night. Boromir had been the next to go with Sam and Frodo close behind. Then it had been Merry and Aragorn. Pausing by an empty hammock, Legolas frowned at it. Pippin wasn't in bed yet. Again. This made the third night in the row. He'd been keeping an eye on the small creature ever since he'd noticed the strange habit on the first night. This was normal for Pippin.

Ducking under the sleeping form of Frodo, Legolas hurried across the lower level and up the stairs. The autopilot in the cockpit pulsed a gentle golden color, waiting for Merry's return come morning. After all, the pilot needed sleep. Legolas turned away from the cockpit toward the engine room on the other end of the ship. The soft glow of the lamps inside spilled outside into the main area. Softly making his way floor, Legolas skirted the hole in the center of the floor and stepped into the engine room. Pippin wasn't anywhere to be found in the immediate area.

"Peregrin?" Legolas asked softly. His ears pricked at the sound of a stifled hiccup. "_Mellon_, are you in here?"

"N-No," came the answering voice. Legolas frowned at the sound of the repressed sob. Slowly, so as to not scare Pippin, he made his way around the engine. The youngest Hobbit of the four sat tucked under the workbench. His cheeks were stained red from tears.

"_Mellon_," Legolas breathed, hurrying forward. He crouched down and placed a warm hand on Pippin's shoulder. The Hobbit leaned slightly away from him, "What happened? Did you hurt yourself on the engine?" Pippin shook his head. "Then what is it?"

"I-It's nothing," Pippin managed to say before a tear coursed down his cheek. Legolas swiped it away with a thumb.

"This is not nothing," Legolas disagreed. "Did you eat something bad?" Pippin shook his head again, biting his lip to stop another sob. "Tell me, _Mellon_. I want to help."

"Am I a b-bad person?" Pippin whispered after a moment.

Legolas frowned in confusion. "Why would you think that?" he asked. "Did someone on Rivendell say that to you?" Pippin shook his once. "Then why, _Mellon_?"

"B-Because I'm a Read-der," Pippin stuttered out. "I shouldn't b-be able to, yeah."

"Of course you should," Legolas said. Lowering himself to the ground, he coaxed Pippin out from under the workbench and into his lap. "This was not your choice, just as it was not Bilbo's. You should not be blamed for it."

"I c-can't stop it, th-though."

"You just need practice," Legolas said. He rested his chin atop Pippin's head, allowing the Hobbit to lean into him for comfort. "You are still young. No one can expect you to understand your own abilities, least of all control them."

"Boromir does," Pippin said in a bare whisper. Legolas stiffened. For a split second he felt a flash of anger, but dismissed it when Pippin whimpered.

"Boromir is blinded by his father's own greed," Legolas told the Hobbit. "Surely you of all people on this ship can see that." Pippin chuckled weakly. "Ignore what Boromir says. He does not understand Hobbits yet as I do." The Hobbit snuggled closer to him and Legolas wrapped his arms around him.

"Thank you," Pippin whispered, his voice watery with tears.

"Any time, _Mellon_."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"It is Sindarin for 'friend'," Legolas told him. "Are you telling me we are not friends?" he asked in a joking voice.

Pippin flushed brightly. "O-Of course," the Hobbit said quickly. "I-I just meant . . . never mind, yeah." He trailed off when Legolas smiled down at him.

"_You have a gift, _Mellon_,"_ Legolas directed his thoughts toward the small Hobbit. _"Do not push it aside for the cruel thoughts of one person. Let it bloom and grow. One day, you will learn to control it."_ Pippin blinked up at him, speechless for the moment. "Now," Legolas said aloud. "Come to bed. You may share my dreams with me tonight."

"What do you dream about?" Pippin asked in a hushed voice. "I've heard Elves don't sleep, yeah."

"We do not," Legolas said. "We rest our bodies and meditate on beautiful things to regain our energy. I will show the gardens I once grew up in and my siblings now enjoy. Perhaps you can even see Paradise, the reservation of the Hobbits on the Woodland Realm."

"What are we waiting for?" Pippin asked, eagerly jumping out of Legolas' lap. "Let's go, yeah."

Legolas chuckled to himself and allowed the small Hobbit to drag him up from the floor. Pippin led him out of the engine room, down the stairs, and to the hammocks. As he settled down to rest for the night, Legolas made a mental note to tell Aragorn about Boromir in the morning. The Man needed to know what was going on in the crew. This was not something that could be allowed to continue.

O.o.O

**Gadget: Berilac's on board and he hasn't even met Mallorn yet.**

Bilbo smiled to himself as he leaned back on the padded bench. _Sparrow_ cooed to herself as she made a beeline for the Rohan System. With Berilac on his team, that made this battle just a little bit easier.

**Checkmate: Excellent, tell him I look forward to meeting him. And tell Fuinithil to give him a communicator. He'll need one.**

**Gadget: He wants his codename to be "Comet".**

**Checkmate: Comet it is, then. Godspeed, Estella.**

**Gadget: Godspeed, Underhill.**

Closing the message to Estella, Bilbo opened one to Faramir.

**Checkmate: Leave for the Ithilien airspace soon. Give your father a few days before the announcement.**

**Steward: Roger that. I'll let you know when I leave. Godspeed.**

**Checkmate: Godspeed.**

And finally, a message to Tauriel.

**Checkmate: Berilac is on board. How is the Fellowship doing?**

**Hacker: No better. I won't be able to reach Boromir with the way they are flying. They have not stopped by any stations recently.**

**Checkmate: I didn't expect them to. Take your time. If all else fails, I can ask an old friend for help.**

**Hacker: An old friend? Who?**

**Checkmate: He is nearly as old as time. I have known him for nearly sixty years now.**

**Hacker: Will I ever meet him?**

**Checkmate: Maybe one day. But for now, focus on the task at and.**

**Hacker: Of course. Godspeed, Underhill.**

**Checkmate: Godspeed, Tauriel. And, really, there's only so many times you can watch that twenty-first century TV show before it gets old.**

**Hacker: Do not dare dis Sherlock! Or Doctor Who! Or Dollhouse! They are excellent TV shows your feeble mind cannot begin to understand.**

Laughing to himself, Bilbo closed the message. He'd told Tauriel to read a book many times in the past few days, but she seemed bent on watching pirated versions of ancient TV shows from the Solar System. He would never understand what she found in them. A Man flying around in a blue box? Nonsense. Sherlock always came off as a drama queen to him. And Dollhouse made absolutely no sense. Whatever Tauriel saw in them, he'd never understand.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I_ almost_ put in a hint at Firefly in this chapter, but then I decided not to. Let's see . . ._

_Estella Bolger is Fatty Bolger's younger sister, only 33 years old. I wanted to make her a modest character and as un-Mary Sue as possible. Hopefully I got her right. She kind of came out a bit Minnesotan. I think._

_I finally got a decent scene of the Fellowship, albeit it was a short one._

_And we finally hear a bit form Moria. Yay!_


	25. Garden Excursions

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_I didn't like how this chapter turned out the first time so . . . rewrite. And drama! *Jazz hands* I promised Castor I would do that._

_Anyway, enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Garden Excursions<strong>

Legolas didn't get the chance to tell Aragorn about Boromir's treatment of Pippin until two days after he himself had learned. Nearly every attempt he made was either within Boromir's earshot or accidentally thwarted by another member of the crew. Eventually the Elf opted for an easier route: kick Merry and Pippin out of the upper level and call Aragorn up with an urgent matter.

Footsteps clanked across the grated floor of the upper levels. Legolas spared a glance over his shoulder to see Aragorn duck into the cockpit before he turned his attention back to the control panel. The _Mithril_ ships were an old line unfamiliar to Legolas, though they were similar enough to _Starlights_ that he could at least fly the ship without crashing it into an asteroid belt. Hopefully.

"Legolas," Aragorn greeted, falling into the copilot's chair. Legolas looked at him out of the corner of his eye. The Ranger looked worn from the few days they'd spent on the ship so far. Dark shadows haunted the Ranger's eyes. The amount of arguing he'd been doing with Gandalf and Boromir wasn't helping any. "You wanted to talk to me?" Aragorn said.

"Aye," Legolas said. Fiddling with a few knobs, he turned the autopilot on; or so he hoped. He might have accidentally turned off the lights in the engine room. "It is about Peregrin."

"What about him?" Aragorn asked immediately, sitting up in his chair. "Has he been getting headaches? Did he hear something?"

"No, nothing like that," Legolas said before his friend could jump to any more conclusions. "At least, not that I know of." Aragorn relaxed slightly in his chair, though he remained alert. "I spoke to Peregrin a few days ago about his strange attitude."

"What attitude was that?" Aragorn asked in confusion, and Legolas scowled at him. Sometimes Men could be so dense. It made him miss the bluntness of Dwarves. At least Dwarves came to conclusions faster than the Men did. Or maybe that was only Thorin and his crew.

"Peregrin had been avoiding many of the crew members," Legolas told Aragorn. The Man's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I confronted him about it and he told me the truth."

"What did he say?" Aragorn asked, though he seemed to have already guessed the problem.

Leaning back in his chair, Legolas wove his fingers together. "Peregrin blames himself for his ability to Read. He seems to think it is a bad thing."

"Who told him that?"

"Boromir, I would have to assume," Legolas answered. Aragorn sighed, running a hand over his face. "Peregrin told me Boromir does not like his ability to Read. I did not press any further, though he seemed very upset about it."

"When did this attitude start?" Aragorn asked tiredly. Legolas thought for a moment, trying to pinpoint the moment it could have started. Boromir hadn't treated any of the Hobbits kindly ever since he'd met them on Rivendell. "Was it before or after we boarded the ship."

"I believe after," Legolas said after a moment. "I remember Boromir brought Peregrin dinner on the first night we were on the ship. He came down from this level annoyed about something."

"And Pippin started hiding away in the engine room," Aragorn finished. "I hadn't really thought of his disappearance much. I'd just assumed it was normal for him. Merry did say Pippin works on the engine so he doesn't hear things all the time."

"Aye, but that is no reason for us to completely ignore Peregrin," Legolas said. Spinning his chair around, he turned his eyes to the mass of stars outside. "You and I both know the dangers of leaving Hobbits unattended. They can get aggravated when they allow their feelings to stew."

"You think Pippin might have attacked Boromir?"

Legolas thought about the question before answering. "Perhaps. I cannot say. Peregrin is still young. He does not seem like the kind of person to attack another living being."

"Hobbits surprise us all."

"Aye that they do."

"What do you propose?"

"We need to speak to Boromir about this matter," Legolas said. Aragorn made an annoyed noise and he ignored the Man. "If we allow this problem to fester then Boromir may attack Peregrin."

"Boromir won't like us telling him what to do," Aragorn pointed out.

"You are his king," Legolas snapped. "He should obey you, not ignore your orders and do things his way. Had we listened to him at the Council of Elrond, the Ring would be halfway to the Gondor System by now."

"I didn't mean it like that," Aragorn said, raising his hands peaceably. "When should we talk to Boromir about this? If we do it now then everyone downstairs will hear us."

"Soon," Legolas said. "We may not have the time to do it immediately. We will have to keep Peregrin and Boromir separated until then, for Peregrin's safety."

"You keep an eye on Pippin," Aragorn told Legolas. "I'll watch Boromir, make sure he doesn't do anything else to do the other Hobbits. He could seriously hurt one of them." Standing from the copilot's seat, he leaned across Legolas to flick a switch. "You forgot to turn the autopilot on." Legolas blinked at the switch then looked to the knobs he'd turned. If he hadn't turned the autopilot on then what _had_ he done?

Aragorn's boots clomped across the floor as he left the cockpit. Curious, Legolas grabbed the knob he'd turned earlier and twisted it first left then right a few times. A shout carried up to the cockpit.

"Legolas, knock it off! You're going to cause a seizure down here!"

O.o.O

Estella came to collect Berilac in the morning to show him around the Garden. They wandered through the rolling hills, the younger Hobbit introducing her new friend to each of their neighbors. There were Baggins, Tooks, Bolgers, Noakes, a few Goodenoughs, and more. None of the families judged one another as they might have in the Shire System. Instead, they seemed to live together in peace. No one competed with one another for power or who had the best tomatoes. Occasionally an Elf could be found with a Hobbits. The taller folk stood out like sore thumbs, their taller and more graceful bodies towering of the Hobbits. Many of these Big Folk greeted Berilac happily.

"And this is the main garden," Estella said as she skipped through the arched gate. Berilac followed her at a more sedated pace. Just being around this overly positive Hobbits exhausted him. "Sometimes I come out here to help the Elves tend their gardens. They like it when we do, especially when we sing while we work."

"Do they grow the food for us?" Berilac asked. Seeing the many plants in the garden, he'd started to realize there was no farmland in the Garden.

"Some of the food we get from Lake-Town and Erebor," Estella explained. "Those are a Space Station and planet a few hours away from here. "But mostly we have our own farmland." Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she said _farmland_, as though hiding a secret. "A few families were picked to tend it. They've been working there ever since." Berilac watched an Elf ghost past them. He walked with his head held high and his spine straight.

"That must get uncomfortable," Berilac commented softly.

Estella glanced over her shoulder to see where he was staring. "I don't know," she said truthfully. "They never seem to relax very much. Now, come on. I want to introduce you to someone." Berilac obediently followed Estella through the winding paths of the garden. Many of the plants had dropped their leaves for their winter dormancy. Only the evergreens and a few spare plants had kept theirs.

Estella led him into a small labyrinth of rose bushes. Each step she took seemed to have purpose. She knew just where she was going. Berilac's head spun as he tried to keep track of each winding turn they took. Eventually, Estella leapt lightly into a small clearing. An Elf straightened up from where she bent over a potted plant, trimming the dead branches. Her golden curls fell far down past her waist and she watched the two Hobbits with sparkling silver eyes.

"Good morning, Mallorn," Estella greeted happily. Berilac remained rooted on the spot. Never before had he seen such a beautiful being. The suns' light seemed to shine off her pale skin.

"_Suilad_," Mallorn greeted them in a soft, bell-like voice. Setting the pair of shears she held, she bowed slightly. "How are you two on this beautiful morning?"

"I'm starving," Estella said, and Berilac scowled at her. "I haven't had second breakfast yet. We were trying to find you."

Mallorn chuckled again before turning to Berilac. "_Suilad_, little one," she said, and he flushed slightly. "Are you hungry as well?"

"A bit," Berilac muttered under his breath. The Elf laughed again, a beautiful tinkling sound like bells.

"Then it is good I brought food," someone said. A second she-Elf stepped into the clearing. Her dark hair had been pulled back into a complex braid down her back. A pair of long knives were tactfully tucked into her boots, their handles camouflaged with bits of cloth. She held a basket in her hands.

"Good morning, Ninglor," Estella greeted. "I was going to come looking for you next."

"I saw you leaving the Garden," Ninglor said stiffly. She offered the basket to the Hobbits. "I brought you food for second breakfast." Estella accepted the basket from the Elf, thanking her profusely. Berilac continued to stare at Ninglor in wonder. This Elf was nothing like Mallorn. Her whole body was tense like a bowstring, as though expecting an attack at any time, and her eyes flicked around the garden.

"Is Fuinithil coming?" Estella asked hopefully as she peeked into the basket. The smell of fresh muffins wafted through the air to Berilac who inhaled it deeply. His stomach rumbled hopefully at the idea of a second breakfast. The Dwarves hadn't exactly starved them on the ship, though their meals hadn't been up to a Hobbit's standards.

"He had a shift today on the tarmac," Ninglor answered. "Perhaps you could visit him after lunch. He would appreciate that."

"I'll take Berilac there later," Estella said. She handed Berilac an orange and a blueberry muffin. "Until then we'll just wander around."

"You should introduce him to Briar and Rose," Mallorn suggested, and Estella lit up. "I am sure he would love that."

"Who are Briar and Rose?" Berilac asked curiously. These didn't sound like any Elvish names he'd heard so far. The Big Folk had wonderfully majestic names such as "Thranduil", "Ninglor", or "Tauriel". Estella had spoken of the last Elf with such a fondness, Berilac couldn't help but wonder if they were best friends.

"They are the king's children," Ninglor answered. "Tom Bombadil rescued them from the Barrow Downs when they were five. Lord Thranduil has been raising them ever since."

"You'll love them," Estella told Berilac through a mouthful of apple. "They're the cutest things you've ever seen." Berilac scowled at her. "What?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Berilac chided. "It's rude." Estella blinked at him before swallowing. "Where'd you learn you manners?" Ninglor actually chuckled at that.

"We have been trying to teach her for a while now," Mallorn laughed. "But she refuses to learn."

"Perhaps you will change her ways," Ninglor suggested. "She truly does need a lad in her life."

"Oi! I don't need a husband," Estella argued. "I'm only thirty-three." This only caused Ninglor and Mallorn to laugh even more. Even Berilac chuckled a bit to himself. "Not funny!"

O.o.O

They reached the Belfalas airspace before the evening of their second day of travel. Thorin couldn't have been happier to land on the Dol Amroth tarmac. Over the past two days, Bofur had begun to philosophically question their choice of drugging Bilbo while Nori had grown aggravated about their not going immediately to Moria. Thorin was ready to grab them both and bash their heads together. Not that it would have done much good. Both were too thick-headed for their own good.

"Not many guards," Dwalin grunted as Thorin leapt out of his ship. The glass and mithril panels folded shut after him and _Úhúrud_ drew the cockpit up and back. In their resting state the _Eagles_ resembled live sleeping birds.

"There is a war going on," Thorin said. "I have heard Orcs are attacking this System more often now. They will have sent their guards out to fight off the enemy ships."

"Makes less work for us," Nori grumbled, marching up to them. Kili wandered toward them from around his own ship, Bofur bringing up the rear. The engineer's shoulder slumped at what they planned to do to their little friend. "Hello, guards," Nori said, miming speaking to a taller person. "Why do we have a paralyzed Hobbit? Well, you see, he's been running from us for a while so we kinda sorta had to kidnap him. Don't worry about us, though. We're all good."

Thorin scowled at the thief. "Nori, I do not have time for your attitude," he warned. "Once we have Bilbo then we can head to Moria."

"You want to know something funny, Thorin?" Nori snapped. "We don't even know if Bilbo's here. We're going off the information of tea-drinking loon. Oh, and by the way, we've been chasing for Bilbo for _seventeen years_, in case you hadn't noticed. What makes you think he's going to let us catch him now?"

"Nori," Thorin growled. Kili glanced between the two older Dwarves nervously while Bofur chewed his lip. Dwalin stiffened, ready to intervene if he needed to.

"_Thorin_," Nori drawled out. "I'm starting to think this was all a waste of time. Bilbo dodges us at every turn and here we are, ready to paralyze him and drag him off while my brother could be dead, Thorin, _dead_."

"Nori," Dwalin snapped. "That's enough."

"Shut up, Dwalin," Nori retorted. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. Balin went to Moria too."

"I know that," Dwalin said. "But he can take care of himself. Balin knew what he was getting' himself into when he went there."

"Did he? Do any of us really know what's going on right now?"

"Nori," Bofur pleaded softly, but his friend shoved him aside.

"If you have a problem with taking orders," Thorin said in a strained voice. "Then maybe you need to leave."

"Thorin!" Kili squawked.

"Ya can't mean that?" Bofur demanded. "He's an important part of our crew."

"No," Nori said. Bofur turned to argue but withered at his friend's cold gaze. "If Thorin doesn't want me on his crew anymore, that's fine be me. I was getting sick of it anyway. Good luck catching Bilbo." Before anyone else could speak up, the thief turned on his heel and marched away. Bofur watched his friend, tugging at the flaps of his hat.

"Thorin," Dwalin said, turning to his captain. "Was that a good idea? He's been an important part of our crew for a while now."

"He brought it upon himself," Thorin said. "We need to find Bilbo before he leaves this planet. Bofur, what can you tell us?" Begrudgingly, the engineer withdrew a small gadget from his pocket. Tapping a few buttons, he examined the screen.

"The last photo a street camera got was at the main marketplace," Bofur said.

"How long ago?" Thorin asked.

Bofur tapped the screen of the gadget before speaking. "A couple minutes ago. He could still be there."

"All right," Thorin said, turning to his remaining crew members. Kili still had his eyes trained on Nori's retreating back. "Kili, Bofur, you two cover the northern and eastern entrances. Dwalin, you cover the western entrance."

"What about you?" Kili asked in a soft voice.

"I will flush Bilbo out," Thorin said. "I need you three to be ready to catch him when he comes at you."

"Doxacurium?" Bofur guessed sadly, and Thorin nodded. "Thorin, are ya sure about this? Bilbo never does anythin' without reason. Maybe he's runnin' from us on purpose."

"Bilbo has never done anything this rash," Thorin pointed out. "We need to catch him before the Government does. They would kill him the first chance they got." Bofur sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Now let's go, we do not have much time."

O.o.O

Nori stomped off the tarmac into the streets of Dol Amroth. It was a large city with four-story buildings and plenty of alleys, the perfect place to build a thief's network. Hands stuffed into his pockets, he hunched in on himself. It was a natural reaction to large towns learned from years of being a thief on the Blue Mountains.

"Stupid Thorin," Nori muttered under his breath. "Stupid Moria. Stupid . . ." His shoulders slumped. He couldn't exactly say "stupid Bilbo". This wasn't the Hobbit's fault. Everyone knew Bilbo was a bowl of paranoid with a tinfoil hat on top when he wasn't with the crew. Maybe he was just messing around with the crew for the fun of it.

_But why?_ Nori wondered to himself. _Why would Bilbo run from us at every turn? We didn't do anything wrong . . . did we?_

Nori pondered the question, kicking loose stones as he walked. His attention was so focused on the problem at hand he didn't immediately notice the addition to his surroundings. Pausing, he listened intently. Footsteps faltered several yards behind him. They weren't as heavy as either a Dwarf or Man's, more like an Elf's. Taking a few steps, Nori listened behind himself. The footsteps followed him, stopping when he did. Nori continued the game. Each time he stopped, so did the footsteps. Someone was following him.

Veering off into an alleyway, Nori sped up his paces. The footsteps followed him around the corner. This wasn't normal in a city like Dol Amroth. The folks here were all too good-natured and law abiding. This wasn't some guard doing his rounds. Nori didn't know who it was following him, only that it spelled trouble.

The chase continued on for what felt like forever. Finally, after several turns and trips through winding alleys, Nori found himself with his back to a wall. He was really regretting not bringing his mace along right now. Spinning on his heel, Nori's hand flew to his waist where he kept his knives. Empty. No one stood in the mouth of the alley behind him.

"Huh," Nori said to himself, straightening up. His hand dropped uselessly to his side. He could have been sure someone had been following him. Blinking, he started to wonder if maybe he was losing his magic touch in his old age.

He didn't hear the footsteps until the bag had been pulled over his head. Shouting in surprise, Nori's hands flew to the rough cloth. Someone kneed him hard in the back. It sent him sprawling forward in a mess. Scrambling to his knees, Nori tried to escape the footsteps pounding behind him. Unfamiliar words were tossed back and forth between strangers. Cold, long-fingered hands grabbed at Nori's ankles. The Dwarf swore colorfully and kicked at them, wrenching the bag off his head at the same time. The sight before him caused his eyes to widen.

"_You!_" he exclaimed. The Men towering over him chuckled coldly. One stooped down to make a grab at Nori and the thief yelped. Shoving himself to his feet, he made a dash for the mouth of the alley. Someone shouted after him. Footsteps echoed across the cobblestones.

Nori barely made it to the main street before his feet were swept out from beneath him. He hit the ground hard. Groaning, he coughed at the pain in his ribs. The cold hands returned. They seized his ankles and dragged him backward. Nori's fingers scrabbled uselessly against the cobblestones of the street.

"Thorin!" he howled helplessly as the Men dragged him back into the alley. "Thorin, help me!" He shouldn't have left the crew.

O.o.O

There was almost no one at the marketplace when Thorin stepped out of the southern entrance. The only stragglers were the occasional drunk person and vendors closing up the shops. Thorin skirted the staggering Men as he made his way through the stalls. Many of these wagon-like structures had been covered with black digi-glass. It kept prying eyes from peeking in on the merchandise. The digi-glass would prevent anything from breaking through. The pixels repaired themselves after any damage, making bullets and crowbars nearly useless.

Stepping around a particularly large, attention-getting stall, Thorin froze in his spots. Bilbo stood only a few yards away from him. The Hobbit hadn't seen him yet. All his attention was focused on something in his hand. Curious, Thorin remained rooted in the spot. He took his moment of silence to examine his friend. Bilbo had grown thin in his time apart from the crew. His hair hung in lank ringlets around his face, unkempt and wild. It made Thorin's heart hurt to see his friend in such a situation.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Thorin reminded himself of his purpose. They were here to catch Bilbo. All other problems could be addressed later. Thorin strode across the marketplace, one hand moving toward his pocket. Bilbo, he needed to remind himself, seemed to have a sixth sense. The Hobbit's head snapped up before Thorin had gone barely a yard. He looked around himself in confusion, eventually spotting the Dwarf. Thorin continued to march toward his friend, even as Bilbo's eyes widened.

_Thorin_, Bilbo mouthed. That much Thorin could understand. Before he could react, Bilbo had spun on his heel and fled in the opposite direction.

"Martin!" Thorin shouted, leaping forward. A few vendors shouted in surprise when the Hobbit and Dwarf ran past them. Thorin ignored their furious words and warnings of calling the town guards. He had a Hobbit to catch.

As it so happened, Bilbo headed straight for the eastern entrance of the marketplace. Up ahead, Thorin could see Kili standing in the center of the street, his eyes wide in surprise. The younger Dwarf looked to his uncle then his friend. Thorin saw Bilbo's hand disappear into his pocket. He didn't have time to shout a warning to his nephew before Bilbo had even fired the Taser. Kili hit the ground in a squealing mass, his limbs trembling. Well, there went his nephew . . . again.

Bilbo leapt over the spasming Dwarf and disappeared into the street. Regretfully skirting his nephew, Thorin followed. He managed to catch sight of Bilbo's coat disappearing around the corner before his friend could pull a vanishing act.

"Dwalin, Bofur," Thorin shouted into the transmitter on his wrist. "Back me up. We are down the eastern entrance of the marketplace."

_"What about Kili?"_ Bofur asked.

Thorin hesitated before answering. "Leave him. We need to catch Bilbo."

_"All right, we're on our way,"_ Dwalin said before Bofur could argue.

With help on its way, Thorin returned his attention to his prey. The Hobbit continued to take random turns and lead him on a wild goose chase, perhaps in the hopes of losing him. No luck. Thorin kept his gaze fixed on Bilbo at all times. Each turn he made, each alleyway he ducked into, Thorin memorized each one. Bilbo wouldn't be escaping him this time.

By the fourth alleyway, Bilbo seemed to have given up on outrunning Thorin. Even Thorin's legs had begun to protest the amount of exercise. His lungs burned with his overexertion. Bilbo spun on his heel, raising his hand. Thorin recognized the movement almost immediately and twisted in midair while reaching into his own pocket. Bilbo's Taser bullet flew past him, barely brushing his coat. He could almost hear the static sizzling through the bullet.

Twisting around, Thorin raised his hand and pulled the trigger of his own Taser. Bilbo clearly hadn't been expecting it. The bullet nearly screamed through the air, making a connection before the Hobbit could react. Thorin's gut twisted in guilt to see Bilbo spasming on his way down to the ground.

Thorin hurried forward as he stuffed the Taser into his pocket and grabbed the syringe instead. Bilbo's body continued to twitch on the ground. Thorin felt terrible for what he'd done. The entire crew knew Bilbo could handle the voltage in a Taser gun – his brain rerouted the electricity to different parts of his body, not something the average Hobbit could do – so Thorin'd had Bofur raise the voltage to five times the normal amount. Now he was starting to wonder if he'd made a bad decision.

"Th-Th-Thorin," Bilbo choked between chattering teeth.

"I am sorry, Bilbo," Thorin said softly, falling to his knees beside his friend. "But we need you back." Bilbo attempted to shake his head but his limbs were still trembling too much. Removing the protective covering of the syringe, Thorin injected the doxacurium into Bilbo's arm. Bilbo flinched as the syringe was tossed aside.

"Can't," Bilbo said. "Shouldn't. Dangerous."

"It will be all right," Thorin side. Bilbo whined helplessly. Slowly, his body began to relax with the drug. "We have you now."

"Thorin," Bilbo managed to whisper.

Thorin made to scoop his arms under Bilbo but froze. Not four feet away from him stood a Man. He was taller than most with long legs and a green hood pulled over his face. A bow peeked out over his shoulder from a quiver of arrows, a sword glinting at his side. The Ranger – as only it could be – watched him with unseen eyes. Slowly, Thorin stood from the ground. Each movement he made was watched with hawk-like attention.

"Thorin!" Dwalin shouted. Thorin didn't tear his attention away from the Ranger as footsteps raced up behind him. "What's goin' . . . on?" The warrior trailed off when he had spotted the Ranger.

"Estel?" Bofur asked in surprise. The Ranger's shoulders stiffened but he made no other signs of recognition.

"Bofur, Dwalin," Thorin said softly. "Take Bilbo and go. I have already given him a dose of doxacurium."

"But," Bofur began to argue, and Thorin cut him off.

"Go. Now."

The engineer and warrior both hesitated for a moment before they stepped around Thorin. Bofur bent down fold his friend over his shoulder, Dwalin keeping an eye on the Ranger. The Man made no move to stop them, though he kept his hand shifted toward the sword at his waist.

"You'll be all right?" Dwalin asked Thorin as Bofur stepped past him.

"Aye," Thorin said, reaching back to draw _Orcrist_. The sword shone brightly in the setting sun's light. Dwalin hesitated for only a moment before he hurried after Bofur. The Ranger followed the Dwarves' progress, his body stiffening.

"Never," Thorin said darkly. "Get between a Dwarf and his Hobbit."

The Ranger huffed in what could have only been amusement. "Don't be a fool," he said in a slithery voice. "They won't get very far. My friends will catch them." Thorin stiffened, a thorn of worry digging in. The Ranger took his chance. He had his sword drawn and flying toward Thorin before the Dwarf could process what exactly had happened. He had barely a moment to raise his own weapon. The two swords clashed, sparks flickering from where metal met metal.

"You'd do better to give up," the Ranger spat at Thorin.

"He is not yours," Thorin growled. "He never was." Shoving the Ranger away, he swung at his wrist. The Ranger leapt nimbly out of the way. "He belongs with us."

"Not yet he doesn't," the Ranger said, striking out. Thorin managed to block the blow and struck out once more. The Ranger spun out of his sword's path and darted aside. Whirling around, Thorin kept his sword raised. The two warriors circled each other like ravenous wolves.

"You don't understand," the Ranger said.

"Neither do you," Thorin snapped.

"I understand more than you do. You can't be here right now. It's not safe, either for you or Underhill."

"Do not try to tell me what is safe," Thorin snarled as he leapt forward once more. They began a wild dance of striking swords and dancing feet. The Ranger's sword only sliced along his arm once, sending a trail of blood down his skin. Thorin ignored the familiar sensation of medical mites as he turned his attention back to the Ranger. Too late, as it turned out.

The Ranger swept his leg under Thorin, knocking the Dwarf to the ground. At the same time, he brought the hilt of his sword down hard on Thorin's temples. Stars danced before Thorin's eyes. Blinking hard, he tried to shake the dots from his vision.

"Stop chasing Underhill," said the fading voice of the Ranger. "Go to Moria, find your brothers. You'd have better luck there." Something hard connected with the back of Thorin's head and he collapsed to the ground. The blackness of unconsciousness swallowed him whole like a beast.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Seriously, I think all these rewrites just happen so I can add more drama into the story. *Sigh* Well, back to homework. I'll update tomorrow. Castor's given me some great ideas._


	26. Sitting Room Meetings

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N:_ Good afternoon!_

_I started writing this chapter yesterday in between classes. But when I returned to it in the evening it just wouldn't turn out the way I wanted it to. So I jumped back into it this morning and worked hard to get what I wanted. Sorry for the delay. As an author I demand nothing but perfection from my own story. So when something doesn't seem right I _have_ to go back and rewrite it, no matter how many times it takes. So, if you haven't yet, go back and reread the last chapter._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Sitting Room Meetings<strong>

_September 5158, Minas Tirith, Gondor System_

Embarrassment. It rolled off both Kili and Bilbo with the force of a tsunami. Had Pippin been able to see, he was almost entirely certain their faces would be flaming. Someone mentally nudged him, as though jabbing him with an elbow, and Pippin turned his mind's eye to Thorin. The captain of _the Arkenstone_ silently invited him to take a peek through his own eyes. Grinning, Pippin accepted the invitation without another thought. The colors bloomed before his mind's eye, the fine lines sharpening into focus. He'd been right. Bilbo was hiding his face in his hands and Kili's jaw was clenched.

"Kili-watt," Fili snickered.

Kili glared at his brother. "Shut up, Sharkbait."

"That's enough, you two," Thorin said, though he sounded amused. Pippin drew out of the Dwarf's mind. It was getting harder than it used to be. Once upon a time he'd been able to pull out of someone's mind without a single thought. Now it was like trying to drag a stick from mud, as it always was with Boromir. It was as if his mind wanted to remain where it was, safe and comfortable.

"Again, I'm sorry about that whole disaster," Bilbo said. "I don't know how many times you're going to make me say that."

"It was not your fault," Balin assured his friend. "None of us blame you."

"I do!" Kili objected. "You Tasered me way too many times."

"I'm sorry!" Bilbo said in exasperation. "I didn't have a choice. You wouldn't listen to me." Bifur grunted in agreement, earning a huff from Kili.

"Enough," Thorin said again before turning to Pippin. "Are you ready to continue?" But Pippin's attention had turned elsewhere in the midst of the argument. Twisting on his seat, he raised his nose and sniffed.

"Never steal a Hobbit from his food," Nori chuckled. Pippin ignored him, nearly wriggling excitedly in his seat. The smell of scones, tea, and strawberries wafted through the air.

"I brought elevensies for the Guard of the Citadel," a soft voice said. Pippin grinned to himself at the entrance of Aragorn's only son. Eldarion was young yet, only twenty-one years old, and resembled his father except for the ears. He and his sisters had carried on the trait of pointed ears from their mother.

"I'm hardly a Guard anymore," Pippin told Eldarion. He felt more than heard the young Man's amusement.

"Da says I have to call you the Guard," Eldarion said. "It's a title of respect for the Hobbit who helped to protect Minas Tirith when he couldn't." Heat rose to Pippin's cheeks. He'd never been able to accept the thanks he'd received ever since the war. "And he can never forgive himself for what Denethor did to you."

"Can we not talk about that?" Thorin asked in a strained voice. Frowning, Pippin sent him a sensation of calm. He never liked it when Thorin blamed himself for what had happened.

"Aye, sorry," Eldarion said immediately. Footsteps moved across the courtyard. Pippin heard the sound of a tray being set down on a stone bench. "I've brought a message from the Steward of Gondor. He's intending to visit tomorrow to check up on Pippin."

"Really?" Pippin asked hopefully. "What time?"

"I believe in the morning. He didn't exactly say when."

"He never does," Bilbo grumbled. "He's always been that way."

"I'll leave you to tell your story," Eldarion said. A hand patted Pippin gently on the shoulder. "I'll bring tea and lunch later. If you need anything just call." Pippin nodded, smiling to himself. Eldarion's footsteps faded away out of the courtyard.

"How do you like your tea, laddie?" Balin asked.

"Lots of sugar," Pippin answered with a grin.

"Nope! Nope!" Bilbo jumped into the conversation at once. "Sugar makes you extremely hyper and aggravates your Reading ability. We won't get a single thing done if you have sugar in your tea." Pippin pouted immediately but relented to only a small teaspoon. With a cup of tea in hand, he thought back to where he'd left off.

"Elegost had just rescued Bilbo," Ori said softly, answering the unasked question. Pippin nodded to himself seriously.

"Thorin got his butt kicked," Kili snickered to himself before yelping.

"You were no better," Thorin growled.

"How many times do I have to say sorry?"

"No one blames you, Bilbo."

"I do!"

"No one asked you, Kili!"

Pippin shook his head before turning to Dwalin. "Where do I pick up?" he asked the warrior. Nothing was going to get done between Thorin, Bilbo, Fili, and Kili until they stopped arguing.

"It took me twenty minutes to find Thorin," Dwalin told Pippin. "He was still unconscious from his fight with the Ranger . . ."

O.o.O

_December 5091, Dol Amroth, the Gondor System_

"Thorin. Come on, Thorin. Wake up." Thorin's entire world shook with the force of an earthquake, starting at his shoulder. It sent dizzying waves of confusion to his brain. Somewhere along the way the brain signals got mixed and for a moment he thought he was back on _the Arkenstone_.

"Thorin!" No, that couldn't possibly be _the Arkenstone_. Dwalin never shook him awake like this. He was always left to wake up on his own. Focusing as hard as he could, Thorin put all his strength in opening his eyelids. It was as though someone had placed weights on them. Nevertheless, he managed to coerce his eyelids into opening. His first sight upon regaining unconsciousness was the grim face of Dwalin.

"Bilbo," Thorin said automatically.

Dwalin sighed, shaking his head. "We lost him," he said. "We had him up until the marketplace. An Elf and Man jumped us, took Bilbo with them."

"Dammit," Thorin sighed and let his head fall back onto the cobblestone. "And Kili?"

"Awake, but a little loopy," Dwalin answered. "Bofur's stayin' with him until he can walk straight. He's walkin' like a drunk last time I checked. Are we headin' back to Archet?" he asked, and Thorin sighed again. He didn't know what to do right now.

"That Ranger knew something we did not," Thorin said. Sitting up, he allowed Dwalin to help him to his feet. "He told me to stop chasing Bilbo and go to Moria. He knew what we were doing."

"Then it wasn't Estel?" Dwalin asked with narrowed eyes. Thorin gave him a raised eyebrow in answer and he shrugged. "You never know. Those Rangers are strange folk."

"Estel is busy on another mission right now," Thorin reminded. "He would not exactly have the resources to travel to Dol Amroth and attack us. Besides, why we would he want to take Bilbo away? They are friends."

"Aye," Dwalin agreed. "But he did travel with Bilbo for a short while after he disappeared."

"No, I do not think that was Estel," Thorin said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "It was another Ranger. I believe he knew Estel, though. He reacted badly when you mentioned his name."

"All right, so not Estel attacks you," Dwalin said. "We're attacked by a Man and an Elf who aren't Brand or Tauriel. They take Bilbo and disappear again. What do we do?"

Staring off down the street, Thorin thought through his options. Right now, in the whole wide universe, he wanted Bilbo back on his crew. He missed the pranks the Hobbit used to play and the way Bilbo would laugh when the captain was the victim. That Ranger, though, seemed to know more than he was letting on. Sighing, Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. Any other time he would have asked his Voice of Reason for advice. That Voice was currently on Moria, either dead or running for his life. That left only one other option.

"We need to go to Rivendell," Thorin said, and Dwalin quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "I need to speak with Lord Elrond."

"What about Moria?" Dwalin asked in a soft voice. "You promised Dori."

"I will speak with Lord Elrond about it," Thorin answered. "He might know something we do not about the mines. Have you heard from Nori recently?"

"Not a word," Dwalin said with a shake of his head. "The thief vanished off the face of this planet. He's not answerin' his transmitter and _Mockingbird_ is gone from the tarmac. He might've left for the Blue Mountains."

"Try and hail him if you can," Thorin ordered as he began to make his way down the alleyway. "I need to apologize to him. Nori is an important asset to our crew." Dwalin nodded, obediently following his captain toward the tarmac.

O.o.O

They managed to drag the bag back over his head, despite his wild fighting, and locked him in handcuffs. No could say he went down without a fight, though. He punched, kicked, bit, and scratched at anything that came remotely close to resembling a limb. Several times he heard a furious curse as a hand withdrew from his arms. It wasn't until they struck him over the head that he fell limp like putty in their hands.

Supported between two tall Men, Nori stumbled his way through the unseen streets. The back of his head throbbed where he'd been struck with what must have been an iron crowbar. Nothing else could cause that much pain. The pain made him weak in the knees and sent a ringing through his ears. Occasionally his legs would give way. In these moments he'd find himself hauled upright and forced to march on. His boots clomped clumsily against the cobblestone beneath him. But through all this pain and suffering, Nori was listening. He tried to pick up on any clues that could tell him where they were going. There was no such luck, though. The Men holding him jostled him too much that he couldn't focus through the pain long enough to gain a clue.

Relief came in the form of a scream. The Man to his left howled in pain and released Nori's arm. His presence left, falling backward with another gurgled scream. The lack of support sent Nori lurching sideways to the ground in his weakened state. His second guard dropped him completely. Popping words were tossed back and forth between the Men who held him prisoner. Furious screams occasionally interrupted them. Nori couldn't do anything but lay as still as possible. His limbs felt like jelly and his head continued to pound in protest to the treatment.

A body landed hard behind Nori and he jolted in surprise. New voices and footsteps joined in the others. These ones were heavier than his captors', moving with surety like a horse. The words seemed to roll easily off tongues with a language protected from all others in the universe. Blinking stupidly, Nori wondered for a moment what a Rohirrim was doing outside of the Rohan System. Footsteps approached him and he stiffened.

"Eaodan," said a female's stern voice. "Grab his legs. We need to get him back to the ship." Digging his heels into the ground, Nori tried to shove himself back and away from this new presence. Strong hands – certainly feminine, by the feel of them – wrapped around his upper arms. Another pair, masculine, grabbed his knees. Together they lifted him off the ground. Nori's heart pounded in his ears. First the Men, now this? Why was everyone attacking him today?

"N-No," Nori managed to say, twisting in the grip.

Someone grunted above him. "We're going to drop him before we reach the ship."

"Then be more careful," the female snapped. "Underhill won't like him getting any more injured than he already is."

"Underhill won't like this anyway," the male pointed out. "Or did you forget his orders again? Besides, I thought we'd all agreed: no more Dwarves. One is bad enough."

"No Underhill," Nori muttered. His eyelids slipped closed and he felt himself fading away. "Down."

"Not happening, Dwarf," said the female. "Underhill will want you back."

_Underhill will want you back._ The words echoed through Nori's mind as his consciousness slipped from him. It sounded vaguely familiar to him somehow, a memory from decades ago.

O.o.O

Whether on purpose or completely by accident, Berilac and Estella ended up spending nearly the entire afternoon with Ninglor and Mallorn. The two Elves eventually led the Hobbits into a sitting room in the palace where they continued their conversation. Berilac found himself speaking with his new friends about anything from gardens to the family trees of several Hobbit families. Ninglor and Mallorn listened with rapt attention, occasionally asking curious questions, while Estella audibly made her boredom known.

"What is this?" asked a new voice. Berilac twisted in his seat to find a new Elf standing in the doorway of the sitting room. His auburn hair fell straight down his back, his long bangs braided back behind his head. Berilac recognized the tall Elf as being the one who had given him the message from Underhill several days ago.

"Good evening, Fuinithil," Ninglor greeted. The words sounded stiff as they were spoken, though Berilac could hear a note of warmth.

"Ninglor, Mallorn," Fuinithil said, bowing to each of his wives. His eyes danced as they fell on Estella who had draped herself along one of the many couches. "Estella."

"Ithil," Estella said in a bored voice. "You came just in time. Berilac was reciting the entire Brandybuck family tree all the way to Marco and Blanco." Berilac scowled at the Hobbit lass. Surely she could appreciate a family tree as much as the next Hobbit.

"Estella," Fuinithil laughed. "Surely you can respect another Hobbit's pastime as much as your own? Not every Hobbit enjoys illegally hacking into websites and building firewalls." Estella huffed, as though disagreeing with the Elf. Crossing his arms, Berilac glowered at her. The Hobbit lass didn't seem to notice until she'd spotted Fuinithil's growing grin. She glanced over then did a double-take.

"What?" she asked. "Was it something I said?"

"Hobbits enjoy talking about genealogy," Berilac told her. "It's a way to keep up with our family. We know who our first, second, and third cousins are."

"Incest," Estella sang under her breath.

"Estella!" Berilac exclaimed, and the Hobbit lass laughed. "Don't you want to know anything about your own family?"

"Who, the Bolgers?" Estella asked. "I never really cared to think about it. At least, not until my brother came along." Fuinithil slipped past the conversing Hobbits to seat himself between his two wives. They began speaking quietly in Sindarin, their heads pressed together.

"Why wouldn't you?" Berilac demanded. "Your family can be traced all the way back to Gundolpho Bolger in forty-eight-oh-four." Estella groaned, falling back onto the couch. "He's your great-great-great-great grandfather."

"I don't care if he's my fairy godmother," Estella said. "I really don't care about our family trees. Why do you?"

"B-Because . . ." Berilac trailed off, unsure of how to answer. Hobbit genealogy had simply been something each and every Hobbit was naturally attracted to.

"You don't even know," Estella accused. "Why don't you read a book or something? There's some wonderful tales from the twenty-first. I even read one about a wizard who saves his world from the dark forces."

"There's some good stories in our history," Berilac argued, and Estella made a sound of disagreement. "What about Bullroarer Took? Or the Old Took? Bilbo Baggins?"

"Who?" Estella asked in confusion.

"Bilbo Baggins," Berilac repeated. "He was the head of the Baggins family some seventy years ago. He left the System with some Brandybucks and Tooks and never returned. Some people say they still see his ghost wandering around Hobbiton."

"Boring," Estella sang before brightening up with an idea. "Come on, I'll take you to the library and maybe we can read some of the twenty-first century books. You'll absolutely love _the Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel._"

"_Who_?" Berilac asked. Estella ignored him as she slid from the couch. He found himself dragged out of his own seat.

"Nicholas Flamel," Estella repeated. "He's this amazing guy in history, kind of like your Bilbo Baggins, who was said to be immortal." Berilac stared dumbly at the Hobbit lass, allowing her to drag him toward the door.

"Estella," Fuinithil called before they could leave the sitting room. Estella spun around, her curls flicking through the air. "Why not take Berilac down to the farms later this week to show him what we have been working on."

"All right," Estella agreed brightly. "Now, come on, Berilac. You're going to love books I've been reading. Except this weird star saga. Don't waste your time with it. The woman completely butchered vampires and werewolves." Berilac groaned as the Hobbit lass dragged him from the sitting room and to the library. He already missed his family trees.

O.o.O

_The ages had destroyed Bag-End completely. The wooden floorboards rotted beneath his feet. Wallpaper peeled from the walls and the paint had begun to chip away, the flakes dancing through the air. Crumpled bits of paper floated across the molding floors. Shattered glass bottles crunched beneath his feet. Bilbo turned slowly on the spot, his eyes taking in every bit of his childhood home. Furniture laid on its side. Picture frames had fallen from their places on the wall, the glass shattering to the floor._

_"Frodo?" Bilbo called softly. "Frodo, are you here?" His words sounded hoarse, as though he'd been screaming a lot._

_"Bilbo," someone answered. Bilbo whirled about, glass crunching beneath his feet. He ignored the painful stings in his heels. "Bilbo, in here."_

_"Balin?" Bilbo said hopefully as he stepped carefully down the hallway. Balin's voice came again, carrying down from the sitting room. Slowly, Bilbo made his way down to the familiar room where he'd played so many games. Peeking through the open door, he nearly screamed. The rotten floorboards groaned as he stumbled backward to the wall. Balin sat in his grandfather's armchair in the sitting room. Orcs arrows protruded from his chest, a sure death sentence. The Dwarf stared blankly at the far wall._

_"Bilbo," another voice called. Scrambling away from the sitting room's area, Bilbo hurried toward the kitchen. "Bilbo, in the kitchen." The voice led him down to the kitchen on the other side of Bag-End where he found Oin leaning against the counter on the floor. There were no outward injuries to be seen but the Dwarf was entirely soaked. His clothes hung wetly from his still body. His eyes stared unblinking at Bilbo._

_Choking, Bilbo stumbled away from the kitchen. Dead. His friends were dead. It was all his fault. Bilbo's staggering feet carried him deeper into Bag-End toward the better rooms with windows. He didn't even here the next voice until he'd reached the bedrooms._

_"W-We can't get out." Bilbo would have recognized Ori's weeping voice from anywhere. "They're coming. Mother, help me."_

_"Ori," Bilbo moaned to himself. A glance into an open doorway told him he'd found the youngest Dwarf of the crew. Sweet, innocent Ori way laid spread-eagled on the bed. His glazed eyes gazed up at the moldy ceiling above. A small, disk-like gadget sat on his chest._

_"What a pity," his a new voice. "What a shame. They were such handsome Dwarves." Bilbo stumbled away from the bedroom door. Feet clicked and clacked against the floor, dogging his footsteps. "I think they _begged_. I think they begged and pleaded for their gods to spare them. And look where that brought them."_

_"No," Bilbo mumbled. He raced away from the oncoming steps. There, at the end of the hall, was the open door to his study. He hurried though it and slapped the control panel. The door slid shut with an ear-aching scream and a shower of rust. The lock clicked into place when Bilbo pressed the panel again. Footsteps neared the door._

_"What about you, little fly?" the voice popped and clicked just outside the door. A fist struck the metal and Bilbo leapt in surprise. "Will you beg for mercy?"_

_"Please," Bilbo begged, his voice cracking, as he stumbled backward away from the door. "What did I ever do to you?"_

_"You _escaped_," the voice hissed. "No one ever escapes me. Not you, not anyone."_

_Bilbo's feet carried him to the other end of the study where he collided hard with a firm chest. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close to the body behind him. Bilbo stiffened, recognizing his new attacker._

_"When you cannot run you walk," a gravelly voice whispered in his ear. "When you cannot walk you crawl. And when you cannot do that you find someone to carry you. Let us carry you those last few steps. We will see you safely through this."_

"No!" Bilbo screamed as he bolted upright. His head collided hard with something solid above him. Stars danced before his eyes as he fell backward. The foam sank beneath him, molding to his body. Groaning, he raised a hand to massage his pounding forehead. He'd have a bruise there for certain. Slowly, memories of his nightmare resurfaced and the pain in his head became pointless. Oin, Balin, Ori . . . dead. They were all dead. There was no way they could have survived in the Mines of Moria for thirteen years.

"Just a dream," Bilbo muttered to himself. He'd seen Elegost come to his rescue. Thorin hadn't captured him. Everyone was still as safe as they could possibly be.

Reaching to his left, Bilbo wrapped his fingers around the handle and shoved upward. The lid to the sleeping pod he had been laid in swung up with a hiss. It was a long machine, built for Men, that resembled something akin to a coffin. The foam inside molded to bodies and released essential vitamins and nutrients for the body while the person slept.

Bilbo sat upright in the sleeping pod and looked around himself. There were three levels of pods, _Serenity_ being an old Gondorian guard ship, and four pods across on each wall. Directly across from him, a pod had been latched closed with the locks.

"Eaodan!" Bilbo shouted furiously. "How many times have I told you not to lock Hadhod in the sleeping pods?"

"That wasn't me," Eaodan shouted back. The Man's head poked into the hallway, his eyes narrowing. Swinging his legs over the side of the sleeping pod, Bilbo slid to the floor.

"Who else would do it?" Bilbo snapped, marching the pod. "You're the only one who doesn't like Hadhod and locks him in the sleeping pod every chance he gets." He grabbed the latches.

"I wouldn't do that," Eaodan said just as Bilbo flipped the latches. The lid swung up with hardly any pressure. Bilbo stiffened, his breath catching in his throat.

Nori lay in the formerly locked sleeping pod. Black and blue bruises decorated his face. His beard and hair had been wrenched from their intricate braids. His clothes hung around him in disarray and red rings circled his wrists.

The lid of the sleeping pod swung shut. "I told you not to do that," Eaodan said, snapping the latches once more. Bilbo opened his mouth, prepared to shout at the Man, when Eaodan raised his hands in defense. "Don't blame me. It was Morwen's idea."

"Morwen!" Bilbo shouted. Storming from the sleeping quarters, he barged into the cockpit. Berethor, Idrial, and Morwen glanced up from a chess game being played between the Elf and Rohirrim. "Why is there a Dwarf I specifically told you all I didn't want to see in a sleeping pod?"

"Eaodan and I rescued him from some Men," Morwen said.

"Don't drag me into this!"

"What Men?" Bilbo demanded. "I've told you all multiple times no one from _the Arkenstone_ can come near me."

"We didn't have a choice," Morwen argued. Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms. The chess game went forgotten, even as Idrial took out her queen. "The Men who caught him would have taken him to their ship."

"What Men?" Bilbo asked. Morwen gave him a pointed look. Slowly it dawned on him and his hands dropped to his side. "Oh."

"Oh," Morwen repeated seriously with a nod of her head. She glanced back to the chessboard then frowned when she found her queen missing. "That's cheating!" Idrial smiled triumphantly.

"What about Thorin, Dwalin, Bofur, and Kili?" Bilbo asked. "Did the Men take them?"

"No," Elegost said as he wandered in from down the hall. "I saw them all safely to their _Eagles_. They're on their way back to _the Arkenstone_ as we speak."

"What about _Mockingbird_?" Bilbo asked.

"Down in the cargo bay," Berethor answered. "Along with _Sparrow_. We convinced both _Eagles_ to fly in after they saw you two."

"And what's our heading?"

"The Rohan System," Idrial said. "What else? I thought you needed to speak with Théodred."

"I do," Bilbo said. "But what am I supposed to do with a Dwarf who you just signed a death sentence for?"

"Space him?" Eaodan offered. A Ranger, two Men, an Elf, and a Hobbit turned to glare at him. "What?"

"How about we space you?" Berethor snapped before turning to Bilbo. "Why _haven't_ we spaced him yet?"

"Because I need him," Bilbo answered. "He's the only one I know capable of getting us through the Riddermark."

"What about Morwen?" Berethor argued. "She's a capable enough woman."

"My entire éored is dead," Morwen pointed out. "Killed by Sauron and his Orcs. King Théoden won't welcome me back until my name has been cleared of all murder charges." Berethor huffed quietly.

"You could tell him," Idrial told Bilbo who frowned. "The truth. Perhaps it would be good to have someone from your crew on our side. He could help us."

"I-I don't know," Bilbo said, running a hand through his hair. "I tried to tell them before and looked what happened there."

"He is on the ship this time. No one could lure him away to his death. Think about it, Underhill, you would finally have one of your friends back."

"Give me a few days," Bilbo said with a sigh. "I'll think about it and get back to you." Idrial nodded contentedly then returned to the chess game, taking out Morwen's king in two more moves.

"Hey!"

"Any news?" Bilbo asked Elegost as the Ranger stepped into the cockpit.

"Tauriel can't get ahold of Boromir until they land somewhere," Elegost answered. "She doesn't know when that'll be, but she'll call you when it happens."

"All right, what else?"

"Tom Bombadil called. He and Goldberry were nearly captured on the last round they made. The Government's increased defenses around the Shire System. Tom and Goldberry retreated back to the Dwarves."

"All right . . ." Bilbo muttered, running a hand down his face. "Send Elladan and Elrohir in. Maybe they can stop the Dwarves from doing anything stupid. I need the Shire System in one piece. Otherwise my plan won't work."

"Grimbeorn says there's something stirring near Erebor," Elegost continued. "He's keeping an eye on it. Faramir's preparing to leave for the Ithilien airspace. He hasn't told his father yet, but he's awaiting your call. Rómestámo called to say he and Morinehtar are continuing to quell the uprisings in the east and south."

"Anything from Fuinithil?" Bilbo asked.

"Estella's taking Berilac out to the farms in a few days."

Bilbo's shoulders slumped as he sighed. "All right, call me if anything else important happens. I'm going to take a nap."

"You just woke up," Eaodan argued.

"And I'm tired again," Bilbo said. "Say another word to me and I'll let Berethor space you this time." Eaodan's distressed squawk went unnoticed as Bilbo made his way back to the sleeping quarters. Did he dare tell Nori? Or should he leave his friend in the dark?

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_This chapter took me a lot of work just to get it right. Estella and Berilac's scene kept stretching on and on until I changed the setting. Hopefully I still like this one. I have a test to study for (Latin names of plants) so I don't know if I'll be able to update gain today. I'll try, though!_

_Let's see . . ._

_No one's been commenting, but people are still reading. So I'm just going to assume whoever's reading my story is enjoying it and I'll continue to write on this basis. All my feedback right now is from Castor . . . who's not exactly being much help. Ah well, I don't really blame her._

_The release date of BOFA is finally out! March 24th. That's two days before our birthday. Castor and I took that weekend off, so we're planning on doing a middle-earth marathon. Castor thinks we're going to die. We'll just have to wait and see!_


	27. Breakfast Table Advice

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_I took a break from studying to write this chapter for you guys. Aren't I nice? ^.^ This plant list is harder than the last one I had to learn. Anyway, here you are. I don't know if Berilac and Estella will appear much after this. I had a lot of fun writing it, though._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Breakfast Table Advice<strong>

Thorin and the rest of his crew rendezvoused on Rivendell the first chance they could. Thankfully _the Arkenstone_ hadn't gone very far before Fili received the call from his uncle. He turned the Khazad ship around as quickly as possible and made for Rivendell instead. Thorin met them there early in the morning, before the sun had even rose, nearly three days after he'd left Dol Amroth with Kili, Bofur, and Dwalin. There had been no sign of Nori and the thief hadn't answered any of his calls. A guilty feeling in his chest, Thorin gave his illegal ambassador up as a lost cause. He could only hope Nori would come around soon enough and return to the ship, wherever he was.

Lindir set the crew up in their usual "Khazad Room" for the morning until the entire household woke with the rising of the sun. Thorin spent the time sleeping, only waking when Erestor came to say Lord Elrond would meet with him for breakfast. Taking his nephews with him – for the sake of teaching them more about being a captain – he met with the Elf-lord for a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs, and fruit.

"What brings Thorin Oakenshield all the way back to Rivendell?" Lord Elrond asked once he'd finished his breakfast. Glancing up from his bowl of honeydew melon, Thorin didn't answer. "I was under the impression you were heading to Archet to speak with P.J."

"We did," Fili said, when he realized his uncle wouldn't speak. Thorin returned to cutting his honeydew into small pieces. How people ever ate this stuff was beyond him. Honestly, watermelon tasted better than this.

"Did you not find what you were looking for?" Lord Elrond asked.

"Aye, we did," Thorin said, finally speaking. The Elf turned curious eyes on him and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "P.J. gave us a heading and I took Nori, Dwalin, Kili, and Bofur to Dol Amroth."

"The Gondor System," Lord Elrond said in surprise. "A strange place for Bilbo to be hiding out."

"Indeed," Thorin agreed. Kili grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, earning himself a kick from Fili. Both kings ignored the brothers as they continued conversing. "We managed to corner Bilbo in the marketplace but a Ranger attacked us."

"You're leaving out the part where Kili got Tasered again," Fili snorted. Kili shot a glare at him. Thorin scowled at his nephews, ready to throw them both out of breakfast.

Lord Elrond, though, frowned in confusion. "A Ranger?" he repeated. "That is strange for a Ranger to be that far into the Gondor System."

"I thought they were native to there, though," Kili said, wrinkling his nose.

"They are," Lord Elrond told him. "But the Rangers, or Dúnedein, are exiled from their home System. Many of the Men in the Gondor System still have Numenor blood in them. It has been . . . watered down in the years since Isildur. Now, about this Ranger, what did he look like?"

Thorin shook his head, shrugging. "I could not tell you," he said. "The Ranger kept his hood up. It covered his face. He seemed to know Estel. He reacted strangely when Dwalin said his name."

"Aragorn is still with the Fellowship," Lord Elrond said unsurely. "Many of the Rangers I know are still defending the Shire System right now. Not many would be willing to leave the Hobbits alone to find a single one in the Gondor System."

"Then he's not going to take Bilbo back to the Shire System?" Kili asked in a relieved voice.

"It is unlikely. Was there anyone else with this Ranger?"

"A Man and an Elf," Thorin said automatically. "They attacked Bofur and Dwalin when they were taking Bilbo away. Dwalin said the Man's sword was of Godorian make."

"Perhaps a soldier then," Lord Elrond commented. Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his fingers. "And what of the Elf? Did Dwalin recognize them?"

"No," Thorin said, shaking his head. The bowl of honeydew sat abandoned at his elbow. Kili had begun to push the cantaloupe around on his plate. "Dwalin did not recognize her from either the Woodland Realm or your own planet."

"My Elves have not left the planet for many centuries," Lord Elrond said, his eyes narrowing as he thought. "I keep track of their activities when they leave. Nothing goes unnoticed. You say this was a she-Elf?"

"Aye."

"And it was not Tauriel?"

"No, we have not heard from Tauriel for a short while now."

"I will send a message out to Lord Thranduil and Lady Galadriel," Lord Elrond told Thorin. "One of them might be able to put a name to your mysterious Elf. Is that all you came to tell me?" Kili straightened up in his seat, prepping to speak.

"No," Thorin said before his nephews say anything. Kili wilted in his seat. "The Ranger who attacked me seemed to know about us and Moria. He called Bilbo "Underhill"."

"Underhill," Lord Elrond repeated blankly.

"It's a nickname," Fili said. The Elf-lord turned curious eyes on him. "King Fengel couldn't remember Bilbo's name when we were visiting him, so he called him Underhill."

"Strange," Lord Elrond said. "I have heard rumors of a freedom-fighter going by the name Underhill. My sons mentioned it to me in passing, though I gave it no thought."

"Did they say anything else?" Thorin asked hopefully. Lord Elrond shook his head and his heart sunk. "Where are your sons now?"

"They are heading to the Shire System," Lord Elrond answered. "They had urgent business there, though they would not tell me what it was. I assume they have gone to quell the growing tension between the Government and Khazad ships. What did this Ranger say about Moria?"

"He told us to go there," Fili said before Thorin could speak. Thorin glared at his nephew, wondering if it was too late to kick both him and Kili out yet. "And to stop chasing Bilbo."

"That's not all, either," Kili piped up. Later, after breakfast, Thorin would demand to know how his nephew managed to sneak that cursed vintage radio into the dining room without him noticing. Kili placed the machine beside his breakfast plate. "Bofur and Nori were messing around with the frequencies on this when they picked up a looped call from Ori." He looked to Lord Elrond who waved a hand for him to proceed. The knob twisted without a hitch, the screens lighting up blue. Ori's voice carried through the ancient speakers.

"_Ar-rived . . . ago . . . searched around gate . . . thing . . . trap . . . waiting . . . us . . . Oin . . . watcher . . . Balin . . . Mirrormere . . . Dale . . . Mazarbul . . . Shadows . . . W-We can't get out . . . They're coming. Mother, help me . . ."_

Static filled the speakers before the words continued on in a loop. Lord Elrond raised a hand to stop Kili from turning the machine off. Thorin watched as the Elf listened to the words, his head cocked and his eyes narrowed. After the third heart-wrenching repeat, he finally allowed Kili to turn it off.

"What do you make of it?" Thorin asked.

"Why did you send Balin, Oin, and Ori to Moria?" Lord Elrond asked instead of answering the question.

"We received a message from Bilbo thirteen years back," Thorin answered. "A single word: Moria."

"And so you sent three of your crewmembers to Moria?"

"They chose to go. I did not force them."

"It seems to me they did not find what they were looking for," Lord Elrond said. "Tell me: why did Dain give up Moria for a lost cause when you won the battle of Azanulbizar." Thorin stiffened, aware of his nephew's curious gaze. "What did Dain see that frightened him so much?"

"Durin's Bane," Thorin said softly. "Shadows."

"Indeed, shadows," Lord Elrond said. "Here is my advice to you: head to Lothlórien and seek council from Lady Galadriel. With her gifts she may be able to reach out to your friends in the mines, provided they are alive. She may even be willing to send Elves to help you rescue them."

"Provided they're alive," Kili muttered under his breath, and Thorin kicked him under the table.

Lord Elrond ignored the jibe. "There is not much else I can tell you, Thorin Oakenshield," he said. "Entering those mines blind could mean your own death and Bilbo has avoided you at every turn. Ask the Lady of the Wood for council and she may even be able to help you find Bilbo."

"Thank you," Thorin said gratefully. "My crew and I will set after breakfast."

"Nonsense," Lord Elrond said. "I will have my engineers take a look at your ship and repair any damages. You can head out tomorrow with Glorfindel. He can lead you safely along the Nimrodel asteroid belt into Lothlórien." Thorin nodded gratefully then grimaced as Fili failed to suppress a burp. What wonderful nephews he'd been landed with.

O.o.O

Berilac did not like the hoverboard. The hoverboard, clearly, didn't like him either. It kept slowing down over certain patches of earth or coming to a complete stop for no other reason. Berilac was starting to think the thing was cursed. Estella laughed the one time he mentioned, easily gliding past him on her own board. Fuinithil had wrapped a sheet of aluminum shiny side up for her. It reflected her technopath ability and allowed the hoverboard to work for her.

"You have to keep leaning forward," Estella told Berilac, bringing her board to a stop beside him. "I see you relaxing and letting your knees bend. That's what's making your board stop. It's not cursed."

"How is it so easy for you?" Berilac demanded. "Are you speaking with it?"

"No," Estella said, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. "I've been riding this hoverboards almost my entire life spent on this planet. I know them forward and backward. Now come on, we're going to reach the farms by sunset with the rate you're going."

"It's too hard," Berilac complained. "Couldn't we just have taken a shuttle out here?"

"And miss this beautiful view?" Estella said with a laugh as she waved to their surroundings. They were deep in the forest surrounding the palace now. The trees rose tall into the sky, their bare branches swaying in the wind.

"Would you please help me?" Berilac said, scowling at the Hobbit lass.

Estella sighed. "All right, but bend your knees so you get a bit of support. I don't want you falling off again."

Berilac dutifully bent his knees, his entire body shifting forward with the strange pose. Estella leaned forward on her own board. Her gaze seemed to shift slightly out of focus and both boards rocketed forward at dizzying speeds. The trees shot past, now a blur of green and brown. The wind tugged at Berilac's curls and made them dance wildly. Gritting his teeth, Berilac endured the hoverboard ride as best as they good.

The forest didn't peter gently to an end or even have a spare trees outside to signify the boundaries. It was just . . . gone. One minute they were soaring through blurred trees and suddenly they weren't. Brown fields of plowed crops flanked them on either side. Winter wheat swayed gently in the winds the hoverboards made when they flew past.

"How much farther?" Berilac shouted over the wind. Estella glanced over, her auburn curls whipping high in the wind. She winked at him but gave no further hint. Grumbling, Berilac shivered. The winter winds were starting to give him gooseflesh.

They didn't have much longer, as it turned out. Estella veered into the nearest farm they reached. Their hoverboards coasted over the high tunnels that had been constructed over rows of strawberries. A single house and several barn sat at the end of the driveway. A Hobbit stood out on the porch, his hands clearly planted on his hips. Estella brought the hoverboards to a stop at the foot of the porch. The machines hummed as they lowered to the ground. Berilac stepped stiffly of his board as the Hobbit descended the porch.

"Estella," he crowed happily, his arms open wide. Estella accepted the hug before pulling back out of it. "How are you? I haven't seen you out here in a while. Not since that one fellow said no."

"I've been busy," Estella told the Hobbit. "Fuinithil needed me to fix a few of the computers in the palace and it ended up taking longer than he thought it would." Berilac shifted uncomfortably on the spot and the Hobbit's eyes flicked to him. Estella brightened up at once. "Berilac," she said, grabbing his arm and dragging him forward. "I'd like you to meet Thorn Maggot."

"Pleasure to meet you," Thorn said. He shook his Berilac's hand roughly, sending jolting shocks up his arm. "I'm the farmer of this here land. The wife's in the kitchen and the kids are out in the fields keeping watch."

"Keeping watch for what?" Berilac asked in confusion, and Thorn frowned at Estella.

"Didn't you tell him?"

Estella shrugged. "I didn't have the time," she said. "There were too many Elves around."

"Tell me what?" Berilac demanded. "I'm more confused than I was with the _Farthing Game_."

"_Westing Game,_" Estella corrected. Thorn looked between the two, his own confusion growing. Estella waved it away. "It's a book from the twenty-first century. Anyway, Berilac, we need to show you something."

Both Hobbits seized one of Berilac's arms. He yelped in surprise as they dragged him around the house and to one of the barns. Thorn paused to unlock the barn and shove the door open before leading the two in.

"Underhill needs us to help him fight," Estella told Berilac as they stepped into the gloom of the barn. Thorn slammed the door shut after them. "But we're not much use without any weapons or ships." Berilac blinked owlishly in the dark, unable to make anything out aside from vague shapes. Something nearby screeched open. A square of pale light shone up through a hole in the ground.

"Come on over," Thorn called. "Watch your step, though. That'd be a nasty fall."

Berilac shuffled along the floor, aware of everything that went bump in the dark. Estella moved alongside him with a bit more surety. Once he'd reached the patch of light Berilac could see better. The light came up from floating bulbs below, illuminating the stairs. Thorn led them down the stairs and into what could have only been described as an underground hanger. Rows and rows of single-manned ships filled nearly the entire underground room. By a rough estimate, Berilac could have sword there were at seventy altogether. A few of the ships had their hoods popped open, their engines in disarray.

"We've been building these ships for a while now," Thorn told Berilac. "Underhill came to us seventeen years ago and asked if we could help him prepare for the battle. There's eight other farms nearby that have ships in their root cellars too." Berilac did the math in his head. That was . . . over six-hundred ships.

"They don't all have to be piloted," Estella piped up. "A lot of them can be run on autopilot and even fire without a pilot inside. The later designs were built directly connected to me. I can order them to blow up at any time."

"That's a lot of ships," Berilac said vaguely. Thorn nodded, chewing his lip nervously.

"So," Estella said slyly. "What do you think? Most Hobbits I've met would run screaming from the idea of helping us with this fight."

"I think," Berilac said. "I've got some work to do."

O.o.O

"Let me out!" Nori howled, pounding at the metal ceiling above him. "Let me out of here, you bastards! I'll kill you!"

This had to be the third day he'd woken up in this cursed contraption. The first time he'd been confused about his whereabouts until he'd realized just what the coffin-like structure around him was. A sleeping pod. No amount of kicking or pounding would lift the lid of the pod. Nori had spent a good part of the first day howling and punching the ceiling. The end result had been bloody knuckles and a headache from his own shouted. He'd only stopped when he'd heard voices above him. They'd spoken in annoyed tones.

"_Relax,"_ one of them had said. Nori had recognized it as the Man from before. _"The pods release vitamins and nutrients through a mist. You won't starve to death."_

Now, two days later, Nori had resumed his struggles. Every minute he spent in that sleeping pod made him more anxious than before. The lid refused to lift and occasionally the walls seemed to be moving in on their own accord. Nori had only felt this way once before: when he and the crew had escaped from the Woodland Realm in "barrels". Both events made him claustrophobic.

"Let. Me. Out!" Nori screamed. The lid lifted with his next punch. Though, Nori was sorry to see, it wasn't because of him. A tall, well-built woman with pigtails glared down at her. Nori remained where he was, lying down in the foam, just in case the woman chose to attack him.

"Underhill wants to talk to you," the woman said. Her fingers curled through Nori's jacket before he could respond and he found himself wrenched upright. The woman lifted him easily out of the pod, setting him on the floor. Nori's knees wobbled unsurely with his weight. The lack of food and pure water had made him weak.

"Who's Underhill?" Nori demanded. "Why am I here? Who are you people?"

"Underhill wants to talk to you," the woman repeated sharply before dragging Nori down the hall. Yelping, he stumbled after her. The Rohirrim woman, judging by her accent, led him through the hall and down a flight of stairs. Nori swayed where he stood when they stopped outside a door. "Inside," the Rohirrim ordered. Nori glanced unsurely at the door. Sighing, the woman slapped a button and shoved him through the door when it hissed open.

Nori stumbled forward, falling painfully to his knees. He groaned, a hand hovering just above his wounded limb. A throat cleared. Glancing up, Nori froze. This wasn't what he'd been expecting. He'd thought he was going to die at the hands of some furious mob boss. They would force him to beg for mercy and laugh while they shot him in the head. He was expecting to see a rather thin Hobbit watching him worriedly. The familiar brown curls fell in lank ringlets around his face. His emerald eyes held an unfamiliar worn and unsure look.

"Bilbo," Nori breathed, rising from his knees. Bilbo stiffened with the move. His chin tilted up and away. Nori recognized the stature from Bilbo's bad days. It was a sign of distrust. Nori raised his hands in a peaceful expression. "It's all right, Bilbo," he soothed. "It's just silly old Nori. You remember me, right? You're our Child of the Stars." Bilbo's eyes flicked to the door behind him and he seemed to hesitate. "Strike the hammer and grind the stone," Nori tried, and that did the trick. Bilbo's entire body relaxed, the tension leeching out of his limbs.

"Nor-I!" the word ended with a yelp when Nori tacked Bilbo in a hug.

"You're alive!" Nori couldn't stop himself. He buried his face in those familiar curls. "You're all right!" Bilbo's shoulders, which had tensed with the initial hug, shivered under his soothing fingers. Feeling the mysterious trembles, Nori drew back out of the hug to look his friend over. The familiar look of terror filled Bilbo's eyes. Hot tears trembled, on the verge of tipping over.

"Bilbo," Nori said slowly. "What happened?" It was like a dam had broken. His words caused Bilbo to break down sobbing. Through the many hiccups and tears, he managed to make out most of the story. His brain managed to fill in the rest of the blanks. Ice flooded Nori's veins with every word Bilbo said. By the end of the story they were seated on the floor, Bilbo wrapped in Nori's tight hug.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Nori demanded furiously, and Bilbo flinched. "We could have helped you."

"I t-tried" Bilbo hiccupped. "I sent a recorded message to _the Arkenstone_."

"We got it," Nori said.

"This is more important than you can even imagine," Bilbo said, apparently reciting his message. Nori frowned at the words. "Balin will know what to do."

"Say that again," Nori said in a hoarse voice. Bilbo repeated his words obediently. Nori listened to them, picking out the words. "Bilbo, we didn't get that message." Bilbo frowned in confusion, his tears coming to a slow stop. "We got a single word: Moria."

"Moria," Bilbo repeated in a fain voice. Nori nodded. "B-But . . . I said more than that. How could that have happened?"

"It's easy to edit a recording," Nori told his friend. "It wouldn't have been hard for him."

"But . . . how?"

"More, even, Balin," Nori recited. "All you'd need to do was cut out most of the letters, mash the words together, and you'd have _Moria_."

"So that's why Oin, Ori, and Balin went to Moria," Bilbo said. "I was wondering about that. I tried to get in a few weeks ago but a Goblin shot me." Nori's mouth dried with the words. "I went to Faramir for help with the injury."

"Who's Faramir?"

"One of the Men in my Gondorian network."

"Network? Bilbo, _what_ have you been up to for the past seventeen years?"

"Um . . . fighting the Government," Bilbo offered. "I told you."

"Aye, but I didn't think you actually meant it," Nori said. "Who else is in this network?"

"A few Elves from both Rivendell and the Woodland Realm," Bilbo said, ticking off his fingers. "Grimbeorn, Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, P.J., a few Hobbits, Faramir, hopefully Boromir soon, Tauriel, the Blue Wizards, and a few others." Nori stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Bilbo . . . are you planning an uprising?"

"Are you deaf? I thought that was just Oin."

"Listen to me," Nori snapped. Bilbo flinched and he regretted it instantly. "You've been planning an uprising for . . . however long and managed to keep it quiet. That's more than I could have done." A blush rose to Bilbo's cheeks. "What about the crew on this ship?"

"All part of my team," Bilbo answered immediately. "Idrial's from Lothlórien, Berethor's from the Gondor System, Elegost is a Ranger, Hadhod's from the Iron Hills, and Morwen and Eaodan are from the Rohan System."

"I take it Morwen and Eaodan rescued me?" Bilbo nodded. "All right, so . . . what are you going to do? I could go back and tell Thorin for you if you'd like."

"No!" Bilbo exclaimed, shaking his head quickly. Nori scowled at him. "Nori, the last time I tried to do that Balin, Ori, and Oin were tricked into going to Moria. They could be dead."

"And they might not be," Nori pointed out. "Why don't we go to Moria and look for them together. Your friends on this ship could help us."

"I have to go to the Rohan System," Bilbo argued. "I need to warn Théodred about the Orcs traveling through his System. Théoden needs to know."

"And you can't tell him yourself?" Nori asked with a frown. "Our crew has a pretty good rep with the kings of the Rohan System."

"There's some fellow in the Golden Hall," Bilbo told Nori. "Théodred says ever since this guy started working for his father, the king won't listen to anything anyone else says. I have to do everything through Théodred and his cousin."

"All right," Nori said, scratching his chin. "Then once you've finished up your work in the Rohan System can we go to Moria and search for my brother?"

"We can try," Bilbo said. "I don't know what we'll find there besides an infestation of angry Goblins armed with bows." Nori smiled to himself, an idea growing in his mind. "What are you think, Nori? That's your devil smirk. It never means anything good."

"I'm thinking, _Underhill, _what does it take to become part of your team?"

Bilbo blinked once. Then twice. "Would you like to play a game of chess?"

O.o.O

Aragorn managed to confront Boromir in the lower levels while Gimli and Legolas distracted the Hobbits above. Gandalf had disappeared to the other end of the ship where he spoke in hushed tones into the computer. Boromir sat on a crate, polishing his hand and a half sword. Aragon ignored the dangerous gleam of the sword as he sidled up to Boromir's side.

"Aragorn," Boromir greeted without looking up from his sword.

"Boromir," Aragorn said. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms. "Legolas came to speak to me a few days ago."

"Did he?" Boromir held the sword up, examining a particularly sharp edge. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to talk to me about Pippin's recent behavior," Aragorn said. Boromir stiffened, his eyes flicking to the other Man. "Our young engineer has been hiding away in a shell lately. According to him, it's your fault." Boromir bolted upright from the crate, the sword swinging through the air. Aragorn's hand darted to his own sword but he didn't draw it. It would be better to give Boromir the benefit of the doubt.

"Don't accuse me of anything," Boromir hissed furiously, sheathing his sword. Aragorn relaxed softly with the disappearance of the weapon. "I didn't do anything to that Halfling."

"But you spoke to him?" Aragorn asked.

"I might have," Boromir said hotly. He turned to leave but Aragorn grabbed his arm. "What now? Why don't you leave me alone?"

"What did you say to him?" Aragorn demanded. Boromir's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Tell me right now or I'll go talk to Pippin. He can tell me."

"I told him to stay out of my head, all right?"

Aragorn stared at Boromir in disbelief. "No, that's not all right," he said, and Boromir glared at him. "Boromir, Pippin's a young Reader. He doesn't have any control over his ability. How could you say something like that to him?"

"Because nothing good comes from a Reader," Boromir snapped. "I've seen it with my own eyes. They're hateful, deceitful people who use others for their own gain."

"He's not even an adult in his own race yet!"

"That doesn't excuse him. You haven't seen what I have."

"Are you telling me you think Pippin's going to wake up one day and just turn again us? That's ridiculous. He can only Read."

"He doesn't need to be able to do anything else," Boromir said. Feet pattered against the floor above them and the two fell silent for a few seconds. Boromir's eyes flashed back down to Aragorn. "I once knew a Man who could Read, nothing more. He twisted everything people said, used their words against them. All the Halfling has do is Read and we're all sitting ducks."

"Spend an hour with him," Aragorn challenged. "See what Pippin's really like then come back and tell me what you think."

"My opinion won't change," Boromir said hotly. "I'll still think he's a threat to us." He turned to leave once again but Aragorn grabbed his arm in a firm grip. The warrior whirled around, his hand going toward his sword.

"Three days," Aragorn hissed at the Man. "I'll give you three days to apologize to Pippin before I force you to. After that you can be his guardian."

"You can't tell me what to do," Boromir argued. "You're not the captain of this ship."

"I'm as good as."

"Why? Because you're a king. Some king. Where were you when Osgiliath was seized by the Orcs? Where were you when the hope of my people failed? Where were you when we needed you most?" Aragorn scowled at the Man. Wrenching his arm free, Boromir rolled his shoulder. "Gone, that's where you were. It was me who fought the Orcs for Osgiliath and me who raised the hopes of our people."

"Strider!" Aragorn glanced up at Pippin's excited squeal.

Looking back to Boromir, he jabbed the taller Man in the chest. "Three days," he repeated. "Then you'll be in trouble. Pippin, what are you doing up there?" Aragorn hurried toward the stairs, preparing to rescue the Hobbit from yet another card game he couldn't help but cheat on.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I'm glad this scene between Boromir and Aragorn finally worked out. Every time I tried to write it before it just wouldn't work out. I guess I needed to work out what happened in between. Oh well, it worked this time, and that's what mattered. I'll try to update tomorrow if I can._


	28. Sleeping Pod Serenity

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Hey, everyone!_

_*UPDATED: 2/17/2015*_

_A chapter before I return to studying for my plant quiz on Monday. Here's all I request from you guys: go down to the comment section below and give me a 1 – 10 rating. 1 means "this story is horrible, you need to stop writing" and 10 means "please continue, I'm loving it". I'm in some serious need of validation here. Don't feel the need to leave any more than a number. I don't know what anyone thinks of this story at the moment except for Castor, and sometimes she's no help._

_Enjoy! Pretty please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Sleeping Pod Serenity<strong>

Bilbo had changed in the seventeen years since Nori had seen him. He no longer walked with a spring in his step. Jokes were given a tight-lipped smile instead of a belly laugh as they once had. Wrinkles forever marred his forehead and he seemed doomed to always be massaging his temples. Running a network of spies against the Government had placed strain on him. His shoulders remained hunched forward like he was trying to hide himself and his head jerked about as he searched for enemies.

That wasn't even the worst, though. Nori discovered the greatest loss in his friend's personality by the second day of his stay. He found himself straining to hear the familiar underlying chirps, chortles, and sighs in Bilbo's speech. They never came. Bilbo spoke in a flat voice, lacking all the natural ups and downs of a Hobbit's speech. It broke Nori's heart to see his friend having down spiraled so far.

Idrial approached him by the second night. According to her, Bilbo had changed in his presence. He seemed happier and more relaxed, as if a great weight had been lifted. Nori failed to see it, always expecting to see his old friend smiling back at him. It never came. Bilbo continued to jump like a startled rabbit at abrupt sounds and stress over his network. After Idrial spoke with him, Nori made up his mind. Bilbo didn't belong on _Serenity_. He belonged with his own crew, back on _the Arkenstone_, no matter what he said.

Nori woke on the morning of his third day aboard the ship with a numb arm. The uncomfortable sensation of crawling insects danced from the tips of his fingers to his elbow. For a moment, Nori thought the medical mites had found an injury in his hands. Then he brushed the thought aside. The medical mites had a very distinctive prick and pull sensation. This was just plain numb and uncomfortable.

Glancing over, Nori found the source of his problem. Bilbo had fallen asleep beside him in the sleeping pod again. Their combined mass caused both the foam to mold into strange shapes and the lid of the pod not to close. Nori didn't mind it, though. He didn't even mind that Bilbo had fallen asleep with his head on his arm. The strange prickling sensation was worth every second if it meant he got the chance to be with Bilbo again.

With Bilbo asleep, Nori took the chance to look over his friend. In his sleep, Bilbo looked peaceful. All the worries of the days were gone. His forehead was smooth of any wrinkles. It wasn't the wrinkles or the stress that worried Nori. It was the scars.

He recognized the scars along Bilbo's scalp and his ear: from the Barrow Downs and the Goblin on the Misty Mountains, respectively. But there were some he'd never seen before. Scars laced dangerously over major arteries to the heart. Some were smooth while others were jagged. It was a clear sign to Nori, who'd seen this behavior before, that some of the wounds had been thought through while others had been done while Bilbo had been arguing with himself. Bilbo's chest was a canvas of scars, the newest being an injury in his lower belly from a Goblin arrow. Nori hated to see his friend like this. It only hardened his resolve to get on with his plan.

Slowly, so as to not wake Bilbo, Nori sat up in the sleeping pod. His body ached with the care he took not to jostle his friend, not to mention the bruises he'd received from the Men on Belfalas. He gently moved Bilbo's head down to the already rising memory foam. Sliding from the pod, he quietly lowered the lid. Almost immediately a green light flickered on. Something inside the sleeping pod hissed. Vitamins, Nori supposed. Hopefully the breakfast this morning would be better than the vitamins and nutrients the sleeping pods supplied.

Nori made his way through the ship toward the stairwell to the lower levels. Being a guard's ship, _Serenity_ had been built with a locker room between the two levels. The locker room was supplied with showers using recycled water. It was a blessing for Nori, who felt like he hadn't showered in ages.

On his way down to the locker room, Nori glanced around himself surreptitiously. No one was nearby. They were either in sleeping pods, the engine room, or the cockpit. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he withdrew Bilbo's communicator. He'd snatched it last night when Bilbo had been getting ready for bed. It was his only way to communicate outside of the ship. All other devices' signals were blocked by some gadget Bilbo had invented.

Tapping the screen twice, Nori watched as the gadget came to life. He'd never seen a communicator like this before: so simple yet complex. The machine gave him an option to either edit the contacts or begin a new message. Nori bypassed both of these with a quick code through a shorthand keypad and opened a new message to an outside source he hadn't used in nearly eighty years.

**Checkmate: This is Nori. I've found Bilbo. Tell Thorin. Don't answer back. Won't have this gadget.**

Hopefully his friend would get the message. The bubble around the words floated on the screen for a moment before disappearing. Huh, that was new. Nori had never seen a gadget like that before.

"What are you doing?" Nori stiffened at the voice, his hand already jamming the gadget into his jacket. Slowly, he turned on the spot. Morwen stood at the other end of the hall watching him suspiciously. Her hair had been pulled out of its pigtails and she'd doffed her Rohirric coat.

"Heading to the showers," Nori answered smoothly. "Underhill said they're hidden over by the stairs."

Morwen gave him a suspicious once over before speaking. "You'll find the door between the first and second levels," she said. "Look for the crescent door handle. You can't miss it if you're looking."

"Thanks," Nori said smoothly before turning and marching down the halls. He felt the eyes on the back of his head until he'd turned the corner. Morwen's sigh echoed down the hall and her footsteps faded away.

Morwen didn't like him, Nori could tell that much. She suspected his presence aboard the ship would cause trouble for the already declining Bilbo. Too bad she didn't understand all the trouble the crew of _the Arkenstone_ had gone through to rescue Bilbo from the Barrow Downs. In fact, none of them really understood. Over the past three days Nori had gotten the chance to meet the entire crew of _Serenity_ and had begun to wonder why Bilbo hid so much from them.

Idrial, their resident Elf, had been the first to find Bilbo dying in the streets on Osgiliath after he'd shot himself four months into his running. After hearing his miraculous story she'd joined his crew. Berethor the Gondorian guard had been next when he'd rescued their small ship from a group of Orcs. After him had been Elegost who valued the life of a Hobbit more than the other two could understand. Then it had been Hadhod, the Dwarf who recognized Underhill's face from pictures with Dain, though he didn't really understand who Underhill was. Hadhod had given up a life on the Iron Hills to help his new Hobbit friend. Morwen had been rescued after Orc ships had attacked the thirteenth éored. Idrial had saved her life with Elvish healing and Morwen had been forced to join their crew when she'd been charged by Théoden for the murder of her entire éored. Eaodan had been last to join. Betrothed to Morwen, he'd decided his duty was to protect his fiancée. Even though they'd hated each other since they were young children.

Nori snorted to himself as the reached the stairwell. The crew of _Serenity_ was _nearly_ as bad as his own. They argued over every little decision if Bilbo didn't intervene and, Nori was certain, Hadhod would have been spaced by now if Bilbo didn't stop Eaodan every time. It made Nori miss the days when _the Arkenstone_ had been filled with thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit.

Finding the locker room's door wasn't a problem. Nori found the crescent-shaped door handle without a hitch. It lay hidden in the wall on the right side of the ship. It was getting into the locker room that was. Every aspect of the Gondorian ship had been built with Men in mind. Nori had to balance precariously on the sloping railing of the stairwell to reach the handle. The door screeched open on rusty hinges at his touch. Then it was a matter of grabbing the doorframe and dragging himself up into the locker room. This was worse than the time he'd had to drag himself up through an air vent in Erebor just to save a mewling kitten. The damn thing had been driving the miners downstairs nuts. They'd thought there had been a ghost in the mountain. Nori managed it in the end, even with his arms trembling from supporting his entire weight. He landed in a graceless heap on the steel floor of the locker room.

The locker room was fairly large for a Dwarf to use. There were three shower stalls, each with their own swinging door and shelf for shampoos. Only one of the showers had been stocked with bottles of shampoo and soaps. Nori chose this stall to clean himself in while he plotted. Thankfully the controls were at waist height for Men, making them easier for Nori to reach. Shedding his clothes, he stepped under the spigot and played a bit with the controls. A few pushed buttons later and luke-warm water jettisoned out of the showerhead, soaking Nori in minutes. It sent gooseflesh down his arms and made him shudder. Ah well, it was better than nothing. As Nori ran his fingers through his silk-fine hair, he returned to plan. He had a Hobbit to save.

O.o.O

Boromir had never liked apologizing. It wasn't that he found it beneath himself as the son of a steward, he just . . . wasn't very good at it. All his life his father had told him people should apologize to him not the other way around. It wasn't exactly a philosophy Boromir agreed with and he tried his best to apologize to those he hurt; but he had the problem of screwing up every time he attempted an apology. He would stutter and only make matters worse for himself with his miswording. There was another reason Faramir would have done better on this journey than him: Faramir could apologize with heart-felt fluidity and people believed him. Still, it was Boromir who found himself in the situation and Boromir who had to fix it.

Loitering outside the engine room, Boromir looked around himself. Every other crew member aboard _the Fellowship_ was down in the lower levels for dinner. Boromir had already eaten, hence his bringing Peregrin a plate of food. A meaningful glance from Aragorn and then Legolas had sent him up here. Taking a deep breath, Boromir prepared himself for the apology and stepped in. It was the same doomed feeling of stepping in front of the firing squad or his father.

What had started out as a neatly organized engine room had quickly deteriorated as Peregrin had taken over. Multiple tools hung from hooks in the wall. Extra cords had been tied loosely around pipes through the ceiling for the ease of access. The computer connected to the spinning engine's cradle had a coat hanging over it, covering the glowing screen. There were signs of Peregrin's presence all over the engine room but no Hobbit to be found.

"Peregrin?" Boromir called softly, stepping deeper into the engine room. There was no need for him to scare the Hobbit even more. He'd done that enough already. Something nagged at the back of Boromir's mind. It was a strange sensation he'd had ever since he'd met the Reader. It felt as if someone was nudging him with an elbow, trying to get his attention. "Peregrin, are you in here?" No answer.

Knowing he couldn't get away with just leaving the food in the engine room, Boromir began to search around. He couldn't find the Hobbit anywhere in the main area of the engine room. He even lifted a few of the grated floor tiles just to check. Eventually he took a peek around the whirling engine. There, under the work bench, he could just make out the tail ends of Peregrin's shirt. They were stained with grease and frayed, the strings dangling in an unseen breeze.

"Peregrin," Boromir called out. The Hobbit didn't make any sign of recognition. Frowning to himself, the Man marched down the length of the engine room. As he drew nearer he began to hear a strange tinny sound coming from Peregrin's general area. It sounded like . . . music.

"Peregrin," Boromir said again as he crouched down to be at the Hobbit's level. The tinny music continued, rising occasionally with what must have been new instruments. Frowning, Boromir grabbed Peregrin by the shoulder and spun him around. The Hobbit squealed in surprise, a high note Boromir had never heard before, and his hands flew automatically to his ears. The moment he spotted Boromir, Peregrin's eyes widened.

"I brought you supper," Boromir said, showing him the tin plate of food. Peregrin blinked at him once then twice before cocking his head. "Supper," Boromir said again. "I brought you supper." Peregrin frowned to himself, chewing his lip, before he removed small silver buds from his ears. The music ceased almost immediately when the foam of the ear buds expanded with the lack of pressure. They were quickly replaced with small, more intricate buds that blinked with a miniscule light.

"Sorry," Peregrin said softly. "What'd you say?" He kept his eyes trained to the floor as a frightened dog would.

"I brought you supper," Boromir repeated for a fourth time. Peregrin's eyes flicked to the plate then back up to Boromir who recognized the hesitation. "Were you listening to music?"

"Aye," Peregrin answered in a bare whisper.

"It was too loud," Boromir said sharply, and he groaned to himself when Peregrin flinched. "You could have seriously hurt your ears doing that. You might have even blown your ear drums." Peregrin didn't answer, twisting his fingers nervously in the hem of his shirt. "Here," Boromir sighed, shoving the plate into Peregrin's lap. "Food."

"Thank you," Peregrin said. His fingers released the hem of his shirt and danced toward his plate but he didn't touch the food. His eyes flicked up to Boromir when the Man didn't immediately leave. Sighing to himself, Boromir sat on the floor across from the Hobbit.

"Peregrin," he said, and the Hobbit stiffened with anxiety. Boromir could feel his stomach twisting into knots. It wasn't his own nervousness, though. The sensation felt like an afterthought, as though he was sensing the mood in the room. Ignoring it, Boromir pressed on. "I came to apologize for my words the last time we spoke." Peregrin's eyes widened when they flicked up to him once more. A hidden sense of amazement washed over Boromir and he tried to ignore it. It would be better if he didn't yell at Peregrin again. Taking a deep breath, he tried to control himself. "It was rude of me to threaten you when you can't control your ability. I'm sorry."

"I-It's all right," Peregrin said. "It's not the first time, yeah." Boromir frowned at the words but didn't press the matter. An awkward silence fell between the two and Peregrin returned to picking at his food. His apology made, Boromir moved to stand then paused as a thought came to him.

"Peregrin," he said. "Why were you listening to music so loud?"

Peregrin sighed audibly, picking at a piece of meat. "It covers the voices."

"I thought repairing the engine stopped that," Boromir said in confusion.

"It does," Peregrin told him. He pointed at the humming engine. "All fixed, yeah. There's nothing for me to do with it right now, so I listened to music instead."

"And it stops the voices?" Boromir asked.

"No," Peregrin said. His finger paused in the action of ripping the jerky to pieces. The orange and apple pieces were mercifully spared the torturous actions. He didn't look up at Boromir as he spoke next. "But it's louder than the voices. If I listen to it loud enough then I don't hear anything, yeah."

"Peregrin," Boromir said, and the Hobbit stiffened as if expecting a blow. Boromir tried to soften his voice as he had when Faramir had been younger after their mother had passed away. "When you said 'it wasn't the first time' what did you mean by that?"

"I've been able to hear since I was little," Peregrin explained softly. Boromir nodded for him to continue when the Hobbit hesitated. "My Da didn't like it, said it was unnatural, yeah. He used to lock me in a room until I'd stop listening."

The words sent ice through Boromir's veins. His father may have ignored Faramir completely and even said cruel words to him before, but never had he locked his youngest son away before. It was downright cruel. And from what he'd seen of the small race, Hobbits were generally a gentle folk who loved to laugh with their family. How could one of them do that to their own child?

"Because I wasn't normal, yeah," Peregrin answered the unasked question. His eyes widened in realization. His hands flew up so quickly into the air Boromir leapt in surprise, his owns hands going to the knife at his waist in defense. Peregrin stared at him, his hands before his chest and his eyes wide. "I'm sorry!" the Hobbit said quickly. "I didn't mean to Read! I won't do it again, yeah." The ice in Boromir's veins seemed to double and fill his stomach. The shadowed sense of horror.

Sighing to himself, Boromir dropped his hand from his belt. "Peregrin," he said. "I need to explain why I said what I did." Slowly, Peregrin lowered his hands from their raised stance. Boromir tried to keep his own posture as relaxed and unthreatening as he could. "My father is a very influential Man and the steward of the Gondor System . . . he's also a Reader."

"Like me?" Peregrin asked in disbelief.

"Like you," Boromir said. Weaving his fingers together, he tried to keep his voice steady. Thinking of his father and how he treated Faramir had always angered him. "Unlike you, though, he's always used it against people. All my life has been spent wondering what my father would hear from me next and how he would react. I . . . I don't trust Readers because of him."

"He doesn't like your brother," Peregrin guessed. Boromir glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. The Hobbit had leaned forward, the plate of food completely forgotten, and he looked hopeful for the conversation to continue. Boromir knew that look. Faramir had worn it plenty of times when they'd been younger. It was the hope that they were on better speaking terms after a fight.

"No," Boromir agreed. "He's never liked Faramir. I don't know why."

"Because you're easy to Read, yeah," Peregrin said. For a moment Boromir stared at him in confusion and then the word sank in. _Easy to Read_. He scowled at the Hobbit who flushed with the realization of what he'd said. "Sorry, I just . . . I meant that you're like a radio that never gets turned off. I hear you all the time, even when I don't want to. I can't tune you out like I normally can."

"Wonderful," Boromir muttered to himself. "I yelled at someone for something they can't control and that's partially my fault." Peregrin snickered to himself and Boromir's heart lightened. So far he hadn't screwed up the apology too badly. "I knew there was a reason Father like me more than Faramir."

"Maybe he can't read Faramir," Peregrin suggested, and Boromir glanced up at him for further explanation. "Sometimes there's people I can't Read very well, yeah. They have better control of their minds because they spend too much time exercising their brains with books and stuff."

"That would make sense," Boromir said. "My brother has always liked spending time in the library more than on the battlefield."

"There you have it," Peregrin said. "Your father likes you because you're loud and not your brother because he's smart." Boromir scowled at the Hobbit who blinked obliviously back at him. The silence between them this time was taut. Boromir tried to keep himself from shouting at the Hobbit. "Was it something I said?" Peregrin eventually asked, and Boromir almost laughed out loud at the innocence in his voice. It was too much for him to yell at the Hobbit again. Instead, he brushed the accidental insult aside and moved on with the apology.

"Peregrin," he began, but the Hobbit interrupted him.

"It's Pippin, or Pip. Peregrin's too long of a name."

"How do you even get Pippin out of Peregrin?" Boromir asked in confusion. He'd heard the others aboard the ship call Peregrin by his nicknames several times. Sam he could understand, but not Pippin or Pip.

Pippin lit up at the question. "I've been able to Read ever since I was born," he explained. "But when I was little all I'd hear was _Pip_, so that was my first word. Everyone just started calling me Pip or Pippin after that and it stuck, yeah."

"Very well," Boromir said. "_Pippin_, I really am sorry. It was rude of me to threaten you."

"It's all right," Pippin said with a grin. Boromir's heart lightened with the shadowed feeling of relief and joy. "So long as you don't do it again, yeah."

"Never again," Boromir promised. His eyes flicked to the ear buds beside Pippin's knee. "If you promise not to listen to music that loud again. You'll go deaf."

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Pippin recited, drawing an _X_ over his heart with a finger. "Poke a needle in my eye." Boromir's eyes snapped to the Hobbit, horror growing in his chest at the words. Pippin's smile dropped but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Sorry, Hobbit saying." Boromir chuckled, ruffling Pippin's hair. Maybe this apologizing business wasn't as hard as he thought it was.

O.o.O

Anyone who boarded _the Arkenstone_ for the first time knew right off the bat, Bifur was not a Dwarf to be messed with and perhaps avoided at all costs; one did not attempt to strike up a conversation with Dwalin, not if you valued your life; Gloin had a fierce temper; and the captain had a rather short rope when it came to patience. Perhaps the least expected was Dori. The gentle-mannered Dwarf was known for his mother-henning attitude and excellent knowledge of cultural understandings. What many did not suspect upon first meeting him was the fierce loyalty and protectiveness of his younger brothers not to mention his ridiculously underestimated strength. Thorin himself had rarely forgotten about his legal ambassador's strength and overprotective behavior. This just happened to be one of the few times he did.

"You've assailed me for the last time, Thorin Oakenshield!"

Thorin ducked as a solid iron pot flew at his head. The poor, defenseless kitchen tool stuck the wall behind him and bounced off with a resounding clang. Miffed that Dori could still use professional words in his fury, Thorin straightened up slowly. The Dwarf in question stood before him, his face red and his hands clenched. A quick glance told Thorin the fate of the pot: a great black mark across the surface from its collision with the wall and several finger dents along the rim.

"How _dare_ you!" Dori hissed, advancing slowly on Thorin who backed away toward the sleeping quarters. Maybe if he was lucky he could make it to his room before the stronger Dwarf caught him. Dori's furious expression stated otherwise.

"Dori," Thorin tried, but Dori interrupted him.

"My brothers!" the shorter Dwarf screeched angrily. Thorin flinched when one of Dori's hands connected with the edge of the dining table. The steel table flew into the wall, colliding hard and leaving a black mark in its wake. "They were all I had left and you killed them!"

"I did not kill anyone," Thorin argued, flinching when a chair followed the table's fate. Neither he nor the wall were going to survive Dori's wrath at this rate. "Nori chose to leave the crew."

"And you let him!"

"What did you want me to do?" Thorin demanded. "Order him to stay on? He could have hindered us from catching Bilbo."

"Which failed anyway," Dori snapped waspishly. Thorin huffed hard, preparing to argue, but wilted at Dori's furious gaze. "When I joined this crew over eighty years ago, Thorin Oakenshield," Dori said. "It was to protect my baby brother. You promised nothing would happen to him."

"Dori, please listen to me," Thorin begged, lowering his hands when Dori crossed his arms and huffed. "I did not mean for anyone to get killed. I swear to you, when Lady Galadriel gives us her blessing, we will go to Moria and find Ori. We are not going to abandon him to Durin's Bane."

"What about Nori?" Dori demanded.

"He's alive." Thorin and Dori turned together to see Dwalin stepping down from the stairs to the upper levels. The warrior looked between them before the table. "What happened here?"

"What do you mean?" Dori asked. "Nori's alive. Who told you?"

"Did you piss Dori off again?" Dwalin asked Thorin who scowled at his friend.

"Who told you Nori's alive?"

"It wasn't on purpose," Thorin snapped at Dwalin. The taller Dwarf snickered. "Shut up, Dwalin."

"Dwalin, how do you know Nori's alive?"

"How many times have we told you not to piss Dori off?" Dwalin asked Thorin. "The ship can't handle much more dam-_age_." The last word broke off in a squeak when Dori seized Dwalin by the lapels of his coat and dragged him down. The stronger Dwarf held Dwalin nearly bent in half at the waist, their nose almost touching.

"You tell me right now where you heard Nori was alive," Dori hissed. Dwalin gulped in fear when the hands tightened on his coat. "Or so help me, you'll be meeting our maker soon."

"Fili and Kili," Dwalin answered, and Dori's eyes narrowed. Thorin chewed his lip, wondering if he should intervene before a fight broke out. "They received a call from Legolas not too long ago. The Elf said Nori sent him a message."

"What was the message?" Thorin demanded before Dori could say anything more. Dwalin's answer turned to a yelp when Dori easily threw him over his shoulder. The warrior found himself flying through the air and across the dining area where he crashed into the adjacent wall. Thorin winced sympathetically. Turning, he spotted the tail ends of Dori's coat disappearing up the stairwell.

"Never," Dwalin groaned from the floor. "Piss him off again. I'll kill you myself next time you do."

"I will try not to," Thorin assured his friend before hurrying up the steps to the upper levels.

Bifur and Bofur's shouting filled the hall. Occasional metal clangs punctuated their argument of which Bifur appeared to be winning, again. A great yelp erupted from the cockpit. Thorin turned his attention to the helm, hurrying into the room just in time to see Kili tumble down the stairs to the lower level. Dori held Fili by the front of his coat, the younger Dwarf suspended a few inches above his chair. The senior pilot sent his uncle an exasperated look.

"How many times have we told you not to piss Dori off?"

"I was not trying to," Thorin said sharply then turned his attention to Dori. "Dori, please release my nephew. If he dies of strangulation or blood loss I will blame you."

"What did Nori say to you?" Dori demanded, completely ignoring his captain's orders.

"I didn't talk to Nori," Fili said. He yelped when Dori shook him viciously. "It wasn't me it was Legolas! Legolas called to say Nori messaged him!"

"What did he say?" Dori snapped.

"Dori," Thorin warned in his best captain-y voice. If only Bilbo could see him now, trying to rescue his nephew from the jaws of homicidal older brothers.

"H-He said he found Bilbo," Fili said. Dori froze, his smoldering anger dying in a second. Even Thorin perked up at the mention of the Hobbit. A yelp escaped Fili's lips when Dori released his coat. The senior pilot slumped back into his chair.

"Did he say anything else?" Thorin asked his nephew. "Anything about how Bilbo's doing?"

"No," Kili called up from the lower levels. "Not that anyone cares but I'm still alive down here"

"What else did Nori say?" Dori asked. "How long ago was this message?"

"Today," Fili answered. "Legolas said he received the message this morning."

"Nori's with Bilbo," Thorin said before huffing quietly to himself. He was all right. Bilbo was going to be just fine.

"Sounded like it," Fili said.

"What was the whole message?" Dori demanded, his fingers twitching back toward Fili's lapels. Fili curled protectively in on himself.

"Read it for yourself!"

Hurrying forward, Thorin shoved Fili out of the chair at the same time Dori dove for the controls. The black words stood boldly against the blue background.

**Checkmate: This is Nori. I've found Bilbo. Tell Thorin. Don't answer back. Won't have this gadget.**

"Checkmate?" Dori said aloud. "Who's _Checkmate_?"

"It could be a codename," Fili suggested. Kili's head popped up from the lower levels and Fili planted a boot on it. Whining, Kili smacked at his brother's leg.

"What do you think, Dori?" Thorin asked. "You know your brother best." Fili and Kili's bickering ceased for a moment as they turned to the older Dwarves.

"I think he's with Bilbo," Dori said hesitantly, a hopeful note in his voice. "Somehow Nori ended up with our Hobbit-y friend. He doesn't have the further means to communicate with us, but . . ."

"He's planning something," Thorin finished for his ambassador. Dori nodded slowly. Both Fili and Kili lightened up immediately. Fili lowered his boot from his brother's head.

"Bilbo's coming home?" Kili asked hopefully.

"Looks like it," Thorin said. "Keep an open link for Nori to hail us if he needs to. Open one from _Skydiver_ or _Goshawk_ if you can as well. _Mockingbird_ might be able to reach us faster. Let Nori know we are going to Lothlórien." Kili leapt up from the steps, jumping to the controls on the copilot side of the ship.

"Do you really think Nori will bring Bilbo back?" Dori asked Thorin.

The captain of _the Arkenstone_ watched his nephew work for a moment before answering. "Aye," he said. "I think Nori has a plan and intends to put it into action. We could be seeing Bilbo back on our ship within the next week."

"What about Moria?" Kili asked. "Are we still going to Moria?" Thorin and Dori shared a look. "What?" Kili said in confusion.

"Kili," Dori said. "Do you know what's in Moria?"

"Um . . . lots and lots of Goblins?" Kili guessed. Thorin shook his head. "Goblin spawn armed with cave trolls and arrows?"

"Fili?" Dori said, turning to the elder brother.

Fili looked between Thorin and Dori in confusion. "Giant flesh-eating spiders?"

"Durin's Bane," Thorin corrected. "At the battle of Azanulbizar we defeated the Orcs and won back the Mines of Moria. Do you know why we abandoned them?" His nephews both shook their heads. "Because we were greedy. Moria is the only known planet to contain mithril in its core. Our miners dug too greedily and too deep. They awoke a sleeping beast inside. We abandoned the Mines of Moria after Azanulbizar because Dain looked into the Mines and saw it."

"Saw what?" Kili asked breathlessly.

"Durin's Bane."

"But what's Durin's Bane?" Fili demanded, throwing his hands up. "You're not making any sense."

"A Balrog of Morgoth," Dori told the younger Dwarves gently. "Ori said _shadow_ in his message. They must have found the Balrog when they wandered into the Mines."

"I'm confused," Kili said. "What's a Balrog? I've never heard of them before."

"_Urus ni buzra_," Thorin recited softly. Fili stiffened and Kili shuddered at the old Khuzdul words. "_Arrâs talbabi fillumâ, fillumâ! Ugrûd tashniki kurdumâ, kurdumâ! Lu! Lu! Lu! Urkhas tanakhi!_ The demon comes. That is what a Balrog is." A hushed silence hung in the air, broken only by Kili's shout.

"I want Mom!"

Thorin sighed to himself. Maybe reciting the horror-laced fable hadn't been such a good idea. Kili had never liked it as a child and he still didn't like it today. Dori and Thorin exchanged glances before heading toward the door. They'd leave Fili to tend to his brother. The two of them had bigger matters to attend to, such as speaking with the rest of the crew.

O.o.O

The Goblins scuttled down the dim, dank halls of Moria. Their captain had sent them down after whipping their backs for refusing at the first order. No one ever wanted to come down this way. They never returned. The shadow came for them. It stole them away when no one was watching and deposited their charred bones at the mouth of the hall.

_Boom_. One of the Goblins, a lieutenant in rank, froze. _Boom_. _Ukrhas_ the Dwarves had called it. The Goblins had no name for the beast, only fear and death. There would be no hope for them when the shadow came. _Boom._ The second Goblin gave a terrified screech as fire lit the hall. Whirling on its feet, it darted for the other end of the tunnel. The lieutenant was close behind, running on all fours like a lizard. The shadow came after them. Great booms echoed through the hall. Flames licked at their heels.

The Goblins, like so many others in the last two decades, never returned to their troop.

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_*Update: The Khuzdul words Thorin speaks are form the chant in _the Bridge of Khazad-Dûm_ by Howard Shore. It means: Fire in the deep! Flames lick our skin, our skin! Fear rips our heart, our heart! No! No! No! The demon comes!*_

_1 = horrible!_

_5 = this is pretty good, could be better._

_10 = loving this!_


	29. Turbine Attacks

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_YOU. SHALL. NOT. PASS! If you have not done so already, please go back and re-read the last chapter. I rewrote it and I promise you will like it better. I sure did. It helps the story run a bit more smoothly. Besides, I got a great idea from Nori over the weekend._

_I noticed no one commented on my last chapter. I got a quite a few responses from my readers on AO3, so I've decided one of three things: one, you don't have an account; two, you're too busy to find the time say anything; or three, you're just too shy. That's fine by me. I will continue posting this story on Fanfiction under the impression that you all like it and would please like me to continue writing it. So I will._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Turbine Attacks<strong>

The next few days aboard _the Fellowship of the Ring_ passed without a hitch. In fact, Frodo could have sworn they were the most boring days of his life. Boromir, Aragorn, and Gandalf had finally stopped arguing about every little decision anyone made. The frigid atmosphere had warmed considerably. Except, of course, for Gimli and Legolas. No matter how much the Elf attempted to form a good relationship with his friend's son it was in vain. Gimli continued to treat Legolas coldly and even went so far as to insult him every chance he got. Despite the amount of Khuzdul insults Frodo heard, he was still as bored as could be.

Merry, in his own boredom, had finally solved the puzzle box Kili had given him. Inside had been a Khazad promise bracelet made of woven metal strings. The silver and gold metal flashed in the light of the cockpit from Merry's wrist. Gimli had been more than happy to translate the meaning of the bracelet for the Hobbits: _come home safe_. Apparently it was from an Ereborean line of jewelry known as _gants_, or promises.

"_Bilbo had one,"_ Gimli had said as he examined the bracelet. _"I saw it once. It's a gold ring inlaid with a sapphire."_ Frodo's fingers had gone to the ring in his pocket, thinking back to when Bilbo had given it to him.

Now, Frodo sat against one wall of the cockpit. Merry sat in the pilot's seat, singing softly to himself with his feet propped on the controls. The two had started watching a TV series from the twenty-first century together on the Roots until Merry had grown bored and left Frodo to watch it alone. Four episodes and five hours later and Frodo still couldn't be dragged from it.

"Your brains are going to rot in your skull," Merry commented from the pilot's seat. Frodo ignored him, his attention focused entirely on the holoscreen in the wall. Tinny, remastered voices spoke through the speakers around the moving shapes. "You should read a book or something."

"Sh," Frodo hushed his cousin. "It's getting good."

"You said that two hours ago," Merry muttered under his breath. Twisting in his chair, he glanced at the screen to see two characters speaking through an iron gate. "They're going to kiss, fall madly in love, and ride off happily into the sunset."

"Sh!"

"_Mr. Hyde!"_

"_I'm talking to my wife!"_

"Okay, now we're really getting dramatic," Merry commented, earning himself yet another shushing from Frodo. "Come on, Frodo, you can't watch all of that in one day. You're not going to be able to move for a week afterward."

"What's going on in here?" Aragorn asked, poking his head into the cockpit.

"SHH!" Frodo hissed loudly. Aragorn balked in surprise at the harsh behavior, looking to Merry for an explanation.

"He's watching _Jekyll_," Merry explained with a shrug. "I can't drag him away from it."

"How much longer does he have?" Aragorn asked, lowering his voice when Frodo glared at him. Carefully, he tiptoed around the oldest Hobbit to stand beside Merry. The pilot twisted back, letting his seat face forward once more. The endless mass of stars expanded out before them, seemingly going on forever.

"This is the last episode," Merry told him. "Then Frodo wants to watch something called _Downtown Abbey_."

"I knew introducing you all to the Roots was a bad idea," Aragorn muttered under his breath. He glanced sideways at Frodo who was entirely engrossed with the television show. "Let's just hope he doesn't watch too much of it."

"Too late," Merry said under his breath. "Anyway, what are the others up to?"

"Pippin's in the engine room with Boromir," Aragorn answered. "They're trying to fix a minor problem with the compression coils; Legolas and Gandalf are downstairs entertaining Sam; and Gimli's moping around somewhere in the lower levels. I keep hearing him mutter in Khuzdul."

"Did you ever find out why Legolas needed to hail _the Arkenstone_?" Merry asked. Aragorn shook his head. "Darn, I really wanted to know. He was in such a rush when he came into the cockpit."

"Shh!" Frodo hushed them both at the same time the entire ship shuddered.

A strange screeching noise filled the entire ship. All three occupants in the cockpit froze. Merry immediately turned to the controls, checking the scanners and readings. Frodo turned off the television show and slowly stood from the floor, chewing his lip nervously. Aragorn glanced around himself as the lights of the cockpit flickered on and off for several long seconds. The hallways plunged into darkness momentarily before the lights came back on. They continued their spontaneous light dance as Aragorn raced out of the cockpit and into the hallway.

"Pippin! Boromir!" Aragorn shouted as he skirted the hole in the center of the floor. "What's going on?" The ship jolted sideways and he stumbled into the wall before reaching the engine room. Within he could see Pippin and Boromir hurrying around the screaming engine. "Why are we stopping?"

"I don't know," Pippin shouted back, teetering dangerously on the edge of the engine's cradle. Boromir caught him by the back of his shirt before he could fall face first into the spinning mass of parts.

"Is it the compression coil?" Aragorn asked. Pippin held up the broken compression coil in answer. "It is?"

"No, I fixed it," Pippin said. Boromir hitched his hands under the Hobbit's armpits and lowered him to the floor. There Pippin straightened out his grease-stained shirt. "It's not something in the engine that's making the ship stop."

"Aragorn," Merry shouted from down the hall. "We've got a problem!"

"I noticed," Aragorn shouted back. "We've stopped but the engine's still going."

"Yeah, that's not the problem," Merry called. "It's the turbines outside. The readings all say something's caught in them. The engine's going to overheat if we're not careful." Boromir looked to Aragorn, fear in his eyes. A combusting engine would mean a dangerous end to their journey.

"What do we do?" Pippin asked in a small voice.

"Get the engine shut down," Aragorn ordered. "All but life support. That should keep the engine from combusting. I'm going to send Legolas out to check on the source of our problem. Legolas!" Aragorn hollered, turning around. "Holy mother of!" he exclaimed when he found himself face to face with Legolas. The Elf watched him with a curious expression. "Don't _do_ that," Aragorn snapped, holding a hand over his heart.

"Do what?" Legolas asked in confusion.

"Leap up through the hole in the floor," Aragorn answered, waving a hand vaguely behind the Elf. "None of us hear you coming."

"Did you need something?" Legolas asked as he ignored Pippin's snickering behind Aragorn. Boromir softly admonished the Hobbit for laughing.

"Get in an oxygen suit and head outside," Aragorn ordered. "Something's blocking the turbines and we need to get it out before the engine overheats."

"Why the Elf?" Boromir asked from behind Aragorn.

"Because the oxygen suit is made for an Elf," Aragorn said over his shoulder. "The Hobbits are too small and you're too broad. None of us would fit except for Legolas."

"How's he going to tell us what he finds?" Pippin asked in confusion.

"All oxygen suits are made with communicators on the ship's frequency," Legolas answered before Aragorn could. "I will be in contact with you at all times."

"Winch yourself to the ship and head out," Aragorn said.

Giving his friend a curt nod, Legolas turned on his heel and leapt nimbly through the hole in the floor. He landed on the lower levels with the grace of a cat. Sam fell sideways in surprise at his arrival, swearing in Hobbitish. Legolas ignored him and hurried toward the other end of the ship. Gandalf and Gimli had already begun to gather there, having heard Aragorn's shouts.

"You sure you'll be all right?" Gimli asked. Legolas glanced at him curiously and the Dwarf puffed up in defense. "Not that I care or anything. My Da'll have my hide if you die on this mission."

"This is nothing I have not done before," Legolas told the Dwarf. Gandalf handed him the oxygen suit and he stepped into the legs. They plastered to his skin, adhering to the shape of his body. "I once scaled _the Arkenstone_ to fix the left wing when the ship shut down. Thorin almost had my head for that one."

"Ah yes," Gandalf said fondly, a twinkle in his eye. "Wasn't that the time you and Bofur decided to fix the ship in the middle of the night without telling Thorin?"

"Aye," Legolas said. Shrugging the oxygen suit over his shoulder, he dragged the zipper up. The poly-fabric stuck to his body like a second skin. "That was the year I traveled on their ship with them doing various jobs. Tauriel joined us for a short while."

"My Da never told me about that," Gimli said, sounding slightly offended. Legolas ignored the jibe as he accepted the helmet from Gandalf, The Wizard helped him screw the helmet into place, ensuring none of his hair got caught. The moment the oxygen tank connected with the back of the helmet the suit lost its plastering ability and hung loosely around Legolas' body. A metal hook was clasped then locked around a belt to lock him to the ship.

"Wish me luck," Legolas said. Gandalf gave him a firm nod then stepped back. Gimli didn't offer any words of comfort or parting, only grunting quietly to himself in Khuzdul.

Turning to the ramp of the ship, Legolas stepped forward. Once he'd crossed the trigger line the assimilation wall began to rise. It locked in place, sealing all the oxygen within _the Fellowship_ to ensure survival. A few pressed buttons lowered the ramp of the ship. Lights blared and a voice began to announce in Sindarin. Legolas ignored the Elvish warning of lowered cabin pressure and stepped out onto the ramp.

Almost immediately he felt the lack of gravity. He floated upward slowly, a strangely light sensation running through his body. Legolas had never liked this odd feeling. Elves were already lighter on their feet than the other races, they didn't like feeling weightless on top of that. Legolas allowed himself to float upward until he reached the top of the ship. Hooking his fingers around the rim of the ramp, he closed his hands. The metal suction cups in the gloves sealed automatically to the ship's surface, allowing the Elf to drag himself to the side of the ship.

Scaling the ship took longer than Legolas would have liked. The lack of weight made the going slow. He could hear himself breathing within the confines of the helmet. His breath fogged the glass momentarily before the oxygen cleared it away. Still, Legolas pressed on. He crawled along the top of the ship, his knees and toes suctioned to the surface along with his fingers.

Legolas didn't have to wonder which turbine he needed to check first. Already, even from atop the ship, he could make out a strange piece of metal in the left turbine. It stuck out at an odd angle. For a moment Legolas thought it resembled a bird.

"I have found the problem," Legolas said, confident the transmitter would pick up his voice and send it to the cockpit. Even without the engine running the ship would have an automatic generator to run the electricity. Elves didn't do a job halfway.

"_Are you at the turbines?"_ Aragorn's voice carried through the speaker in the helmet.

"Not yet," Legolas answered as he resumed his crawling toward the edge of the ship. "It looks to be a small problem in the left turbine. It should not take me too long to get it out."

"_Let us know what you find,"_ Aragorn said. _"Be careful."_

"Roger that," Legolas said. Reaching the edge of the ship, he turned himself about and slowly began the process of lowering himself to the turbine's level. He managed to dangle just behind the turbine with one hand hanging onto the wing of the ship. Reaching out, he grabbed the hunk of metal and jerked it once then twice. On the third try it came loose. Legolas held the metal mess at head-level, staring at it in confusion.

"Aragorn," he said. "It looks to be some form of automaton."

"_Do you recognize it?"_

"It resembles the ravens the Dwarves of Erebor use to send messages back and forth. They call them _Ro__ä__c_. Thorin used them to call Dain for the Battle of the Five Armies."

"_Sorry, Legolas,"_ Aragorn said. _"But we don't need a history lesson right now. Is it or is it not Khazad?"_

Turning the automaton in his hand, Legolas examined every inch of it. At first glance he would have mistaken the robot for a _Ro__ä__c_. The lack of runes around its neck and along its wings suggested otherwise. Legolas had opened his mouth to answer Aragorn when something hard collided with him. It forced the air from his lungs and sent shooting pain through his spine. Another something collided hard with the side of the ship. And then another and another. They came in a large flock, each automaton battering the side of the ship. A few aimed their flight to damage the turbines. Legolas curled in on himself as more of the automatons collided with him. His head struck the metal side of the ship hard, sending stars before his eyes. Helplessly, unable to speak, he sent a mental shout to Pippin.

"_Crebain! Crebain from Dunland!"_ Pippin froze, a wrench clattering from his hands.

"Pip?" Boromir asked from the other side of the engine. He glanced over the cooling mass of metal, watching the small Hobbit curiously. "What is it?"

"It's Legolas," Pippin said. "Something's gone wrong."

"Did he say something?" Boromir asked. _"Shouldn't have let Elf gone out – could be hurt – could need help."_

"_Crebain_," Pippin said. Boromir made a confused sound. Leaping around the engine, Pippin shouted down the hall to Aragorn in the cockpit. "_Crebain_ from Dunland!"

Aragorn heard the shout and immediately leapt into action. "Pip, get the engine started," he ordered before hurrying to the hole in the floor. "Gandalf, Gimli, reel Legolas back in before he get hurt anymore." Not bothering to wait for an answer, he hurried back to the cockpit. "Get ready to move, Merry," he said, wrapping his hands around the headrest of the pilot's seat. Frodo stood beside his friend, his finger still pressing the button Merry had told him to hold down.

"What about Legolas?" Merry asked.

"Gandalf and Gimli are reeling him in," Aragorn said. "We have _Crebain_."

"What's a _Crebain_?" Frodo asked curiously. Merry slapped his hand away from the button, a silent order for him to release it. Frodo obliged and turned to Aragorn who sighed.

"They're spies of Saruman," the Man answered. "Automatons he created that can relay information. They must be trying to sabotage our ship."

"How?" Frodo asked.

"Pure damage," Aragorn said. "They're made almost entirely of steel. They could punch a hole through a brick wall if they wanted to, and one of them got into our turbines."

A panting Sam stumbled into the cockpit. "They've got Legolas in, Strider."

"All right," Aragorn said. "Frodo, get over to the copilot's seat and when I say so, twist all the knobs of the power all the way to the right."

"That'll overpower the ship, though," Merry said, even as Frodo hurried to the other side of the cockpit.

"Exactly," Aragorn said, moving to the control panel. He twisted all the knobs one hundred eighty degrees to the right. "The combined charges from both sides of the ship should short out the _Crebain_. The minute Pippin has the engine running, Merry, I want you to veer right. The _Crebain_ are coming in from the left."

"Right, avoid the _Crebain_," Merry said. He gripped the controls in sweaty palms.

"Sam, hold onto something," Aragorn ordered before raising his voice. "Pippin, how's the engine coming?"

"Almost there!" Pippin shouted back followed almost immediately by Boromir's voice.

"Get down from there! You're not a monkey!"

Frodo and Merry exchanged confused glances. Sam grabbed onto the back of Frodo's seat, his fingers twitching. Aragorn waited with baited breath. His hands lightly held onto the final knob he'd need to twist. One last shout came from Pippin's end of the ship and the cockpit's lights came to life.

"Now, Frodo!" Aragorn ordered. He didn't bother to glance over, hoping the Hobbit had obeyed his order, and twisted the last knob. A great whirring filled the ship's interior. Merry jerked the controls of the ship to the right, veering hard to starboard.

"Come on, come on," Aragorn muttered to himself. "Work already." Awful metallic screams seeped through walls of the ship. They faded as Merry continued to steer the ship. Aragorn waited a full two minutes until the screaming had stopped before nodding to Frodo. Together they twisted the knobs back to their original positions. Relief flooded Aragorn's body, making him weak in the knees.

"Did it work?" Sam asked quietly from the floor. He'd fallen sideways when Merry had forced the ship into the sharp turn.

"Let's hope so," Aragorn said. Stepping back from the controls, he flexed his fingers. "Otherwise we're going to be in serious trouble."

"We already could be in trouble," Merry said. Aragorn glanced to him and the Hobbit tapped a screen. "The _Crebain_ damaged the turbine too much for us to actually get anywhere."

"What's our maximum time?" Aragorn asked sharply.

Merry consulted the radar before speaking. "A day, if we're lucky," he said. "Half a day if we're not."

"Caradhras is still two days away," Aragorn said, rubbing his chin. Slowly he became aware of three sets of eyes on him.

"What are we going to do?" Sam asked worriedly.

"We'll have to head to Moria," Aragorn answered. "The flight would take most of the day but it's our closest option. With the planet in its current position we could enter the Mines from the western gate and head for the eastern gate. There are ships docked there we could use to escape."

"Khazad ships?" Sam asked dubiously.

Aragorn shook his head. "No, Elf ships," he said. "Lothlórien is just on the other side of the Misty Mountains in this position. We could head there for rest and aid, and a new ship."

"So . . . setting a course for Moria?" Merry asked, and Aragorn nodded. "Right, Sam, run down and tell the others where we're going." Sam scowled at the younger Hobbit, but hurried to do his bidding.

"And tell Gimli to leave Legolas alone," Aragorn called after the Hobbit. "There's no need for him to be picking on Legolas while he's unconscious. Try and get Legolas settled in a hammock if you can." In the meantime, he had a dangerous journey to prepare for. The Mines of Moria were no safe place for anyone, not even a pony.

O.o.O

Bilbo impressed Nori. Not only did they find the Théodred's éored within a few hours of breaching the Rohan System's borders. Nori would have spent several days searching for the _Mearas_ before finding it. With the information Bilbo passed on to Théodred that would have been dastardly. The Rohirrim aboard the _Mearas_ greeted the crew of _Serenity_ warmly. Even Morwen was given more than one hug. Bilbo located the captain of the ship almost immediately and spoke with Théodred for several minutes before marching back to his crew.

"The message is delivered," he said. "Théodred's going to be keeping a close eye on the borders for Orc ships. We're moving out."

The parting farewells of the two crews were heartbreaking to say the least. Morwen and Eaodan both received several hugs and kisses on the cheeks from the other Rohirrim. They spoke quick words of Rohirric between each other before boarding the ship with Bilbo and departing the _Mearas_.

That had been several hours ago. Now, near the borders of the Rohan and Gondor Systems, they drifted on their way toward the Mines of Moria. Bilbo was in apparently no rush to relive his experience of a Goblin arrow to the belly. Nori couldn't blame him. Stomach wounds hurt, especially when they were porcupine-like arrows dipped in poison.

Nori had chosen to spend last few hours down in the cargo bay of _Serenity_. Morwen and Elegost had come down to check on him twice each. Neither warrior trusted him, he could tell. They held a sense of distrust with him. They had watched him for the past few days, as if keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't do anything wrong. It had made Nori's preparations difficult. He'd had to stock _Mockingbird_ with food and water and prepare her for sail. The _Eagle_ had cooed excitedly when he'd explained his plan. She was ready to return to _the Arkenstone_. _Serenity_ and its crew were just too strange for her. _Sparrow_, on the other hand, took a bit more work.

"I know you don't like the idea," Nori whispered, running his hand along _Sparrow's_ helm. Bilbo's _Eagle_ chirped once sadly. "But it's for his own good. He doesn't belong here on this ship. He needs to come home, otherwise he's never going to get better. You understand, right?" _Sparrow_ warbled softly to herself. "I need to know if you're on board with my plan. Because if you're not then you need to stay out of the way. I'm going through this plan whether you like it or not." _Sparrow_ gave an upset coo at that. The screens in her cockpit flashed first violet then a soft blue. "Thanks, sweetie, you're the best." _Sparrow_ chirped twice before falling silent.

"Nori?" Nori turned at his name. Bilbo marched down the stairs of the cargo bay toward him, a curious expression on his face. "Are you all right?"

"Aye," Nori lied smoothly, stepping away from _Sparrow_. Hopefully the _Eagle_ wouldn't ruin his plan. "I thought I saw a scratch on _Sparrow's_ helm but it was just the light."

"Right," Bilbo said smoothly. Nori could see the distrust in his friend's eyes, the tightness in his shoulders. That would all be cured soon. "You said you needed me for something?"

"Aye, I did," Nori said, straightening up. "It's _Mockingbird_. She's been acting strange ever since I boarded this ship." _Mockingbird_ gave a choked wheeze, as if to support this claim. Nori had to congratulate himself on picking a ship. _Mockingbird_ was a great tagalong when it came to plans like this.

"What's going on?" Bilbo asked as he headed toward Nori's _Eagle_. "She shouldn't be making that sound."

"That's what I thought," Nori agreed, following his friend across the cargo bay to his own ship. "I checked the cockpit and the wires but nothing seemed out of order in there." _Mockingbird_ gave another cough then a strangled warble.

Bilbo shushed the ship, running a hand along her helm. "Did you check the engine?" he asked.

"Nah," Nori said with a wave of his hand. "I'm no good with engines. You know that. I thought I'd leave that part to you, since you're the genius on engines."

"Only a little bit," Bilbo disagreed. "I've learned everything from watching others work on engines."

"And yet you can dismantle _the Arkenstone's_ without a hitch."

Bilbo gave Nori a wry smile. "I'll see what I can do," he said."

"Thanks, Bilbo," Nori said, punching his friend on the arm. "I knew I could count on you." Bilbo rolled his eyes before tapping _Mockingbird_ on the helm. Glass and mithril panels folded back to allow him access from below. Bilbo hauled himself up into the ship, disappearing into the belly. Glancing around himself, Nori scanned the cargo bay for any unwanted eyes. Nothing he could see. _Sparrow_ remained quiet as ever, as though knowing Nori needed this plan to go as smoothly as possible.

"Ready or not," Nori muttered under his breath. He hauled himself up into the cockpit in time to see Bilbo disappearing into engine room. A single tap against a screen sent it spiraling into a gentle green color. Everything was ready.

"See anything wrong?" Nori asked as he slowly made his way to the seat in the cockpit. Something bumped in the engine room. Metal clanged loudly against metal.

"Nothing too bad that I can see," Bilbo called back. "You're coils a bit rusted but that couldn't be it."

Nori seated himself on the seat. It sank beneath his weight. "Did you check the convertors?" he asked. "Sometimes those get overpowered with the amount of sunlight and moonlight they take in."

"That can't be right," Bilbo argued. Nori drew his legs up onto the seat, wrapping his arms around his knees. The screen all around him had begun to glow entirely green. _Mockingbird_ was getting ready. "The convertors should store all unused energy within the energy cells at the base of the engine. Bofur explained it to me."

"Want to double check just in case?" Nori suggested.

Bilbo sighed. "All right," he said. Nori heard him move around the engine room before tapping his seat once. The mithril and glass panels quietly folded shut and sealed. "Nori," Bilbo called. "Your convertors are loose. How did that happ-EN!" The word ended in a high squeal as thousands of volts of electricity traveled through Bilbo's arm from the tightened convertor and into his body. Nori heard something heavy thump in the engine room.

"Go, go," he ordered softly. The screens around him flashed to yellow and the engine whirled to life. _Mockingbird's_ shifted into flight mode and hovered off the ground toward the assimilation chamber.

Nori made his way back to the engine room. There he found Bilbo lying unconscious on the floor. Black marks traveled up his right arm which twitched occasionally, his fingers tapping the air. Nori felt terrible for having done that to his friend but he'd had no other choice. Bilbo would have guessed something was off if he'd gone with any of his other choices. Grabbing Bilbo by the arms, Nori hauled his friend into the cockpit of the ship. They had already left _Serenity_ and were heading out into the black.

"Loop around the Rohan System," Nori ordered. Out of the corner of his eye he could see _Sparrow_ heading in the opposite direction. "Take the long way round back to Archet. Hail _the Arkenstone_ if you can. Don't tell them I have Bilbo. Just ask where they're going." _Mockingbird_ gave a warble of understanding.

Nori turned his attention back to Bilbo. His friend hadn't woken up yet, not even with the jostling of the ship as it picked up speed. This would make his job easier for the moment. Nori hurried back into the engine room and grabbed the bag of supplies from under a hidden floor tile. Marching back to Bilbo's side, he ripped the bag open and grabbed a length of rope. He rolled Bilbo onto his stomach before getting to work.

Bilbo's arms were moved into a position so both his hands were tucked loosely into his elbows. Nori bound Bilbo's wrists tightly with a length of rope where they were then tied another length around his forearms. Hopefully that would prevent Bilbo from freeing himself anytime soon. Nori used the remaining rope to bind Bilbo's knees and ankles together. The finishing touch was a cloth gag. A clean one, Nori made sure of it. The gag wasn't to keep Bilbo quiet but to prevent himself from biting his tongue off. Nori had seen him attempt to do it after they'd rescued him from the Barrow Downs. Nori made sure the gag wasn't too tight before he rolled Bilbo back onto his side. Shrugging out of his jacket, he bundled into a lump then shoved it under Bilbo's head. Just because he was kidnapping Bilbo didn't mean his friend couldn't be comfortable. The Hobbit didn't wake up during any of these procedures. He remained dead to the universe from his nasty shock.

"Just relax," Nori whispered to Bilbo, brushing a strand of hair out of the Hobbit's face. "I'll have you home soon." Straightening up, he made his way to the controls. He needed to make sure no one was following him before they left the Rohan System. Morwen wasn't going to be happy with him.

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I was actually going to completely bypass the _Crebain_ but then Castor came up with this great idea and suddenly everything clicked into place. I think you all know by now that although I do follow both the books and the movies, I occasionally cut things out to make the stories work. This is one of those moments where Caradhras is a complete waste of time and I'm skipping it. I'm turning in for the night, I'll see if I can update tomorrow._


	30. Eagle Desperation

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_All passengers are asked to keep their weapons beside them at all time. We will be entering dangerous territories soon and the crew of both _the Arkenstone_ and _the Fellowship_ are not responsible for the safety of your lives. If you should happen to find yourself in dire need of rescue please whistle and help will come._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Eagle Desperation<strong>

Thorin woke later than usual the next morning to find the second bed in his room empty. Glorfindel had pulled the sheets down before supposedly leaving. The Elf was probably down in the cargo bay checking on his ship, Thorin supposed. It only made sense. Being the only Elf on board surrounded by nine Dwarves would be hard on Glorfindel. He would probably spend most of the traveling time down in the cargo bay with _Asfaloth._

Rolling out of bed, Thorin threw on a shirt and yanked his boots on. _Orcrist_ would remain hanging by his bed for the time being. There was no reason for him to bring the Elvish sword out unless Dwalin or Gloin wanted to spar. Still, living on a ship had taught Thorin not to wander around unarmed, especially when there were guests. He'd once had a Man lock himself and Bilbo in one of the bedrooms. The Man had had plans to sell Bilbo on the black market. Those plans had quickly gone downhill when first Nori had dropped down from the vents and then Dwalin had kicked the door in. Thorin had sent Bilbo to stay with Lord Elrond for two weeks of rest and relaxation after that. That had only led to the great pregnancy prank the entire crew had pulled on him.

Thorin chuckled at the memory of that joke, him being the butt of it, as he shoved a sheathed knife down his boot. It would be easiest for him to draw it from there instead of from around his waist. Armed and ready for anything, Thorin marched out of his bedroom and down the sleeping quarters' hallway. He found Dwalin and Bofur sitting at the marked, courtesy of Dori, dining table. The warrior appeared to have fallen asleep with his head on the table while Bofur had already seized the coffee carafe for his normal morning drink.

"Any coffee left?" Thorin asked as he slumped into the chair at the head of the table. Bofur offered the carafe wordlessly and Thorin scowled at him. "Anything your lips have _not_ touched?"

"He was up at three this mornin'," Dwlain moaned into the table. "I heard him bangin' around in the kitchen, couldn't get back to sleep."

"I couldn't sleep last night," Bofur explained with closed eyes. Thorin shoved the coffee carafe back toward the engineer who clutched it to his chest like a life line. "Not since Dori told me Bilbo's comin' back."

"We cannot be sure of that yet," Thorin said. His eyes flicked to the empty seat across from Dwalin. Thirteen years had passed and he still couldn't get over the sight of not seeing Balin sitting in his normal seat.

"We made a bet years ago," Bofur mumbled incoherently. "If Nori was the one ta catch Bilbo then I had ta accept his offer."

"You've got to be kiddin' me," Dwalin growled, lifting his head slightly off the table to glare at Bofur. "Eighty years on the crew and you're _still_ arguin' about that offer? It doesn't even take that lon'. Nori takes you to his room and you'll be done in an hour. Just get it over with already."

"It'll hurt," Bofur argued as he propped his legs up on the table. "Never done it before."

"I have," Dwalin said. Thorin rolled his eyes and stood, wandering toward the kitchen area to hopefully pour himself a cup of coffee. "There's not much pain after the few times. You get used to it." A press of a button released the latched coffee pot. Tugging it out, Thorin examined it to find the pot empty of any heavenly drink.

"How many times has Nori done you?" Bofur asked.

"Twice," Dwalin answered. "Forced himself on me both times."

"If I stare at the coffee pot long enough," Thorin wondered aloud, his voice rising above Dwalin and Bofur's bickering tones. "Will the coffee maker make me a cup of coffee?"

"It doesn't work like that," Dwalin barked at Thorin. "I've told you that before. Listen, Bofur, you've got to do it now before Nori takes advantage of you. You don't really have much of a choice anymore."

Thorin continued to stare at the coffee maker, his gaze fixed on the dry grounds in the filter. Dwalin and Bofur continued to argue behind him. Their conversation slowly filtered into whether or not Estel had progressed any further in swordsmanship or looks since last they'd seen him. Thorin refrained from pointing out they hadn't really seen Estel since he'd been ten. Sometime during the argument Dori marched into the kitchen. Brushing past Thorin, he poured fresh coffee grounds into the filter then added water and pressed the button.

"Still wishing we had an automatic coffee maker?" Dori asked Thorin teasingly, though his voice lacked the normal humor.

Thorin looked to the shorter Dwarf. "Lord Elrond and Thranduil both have automatic coffee makers," he said. "Why do we not?"

"Because you need your daily exercise," Dori said before stifling a yawn. "Even if it's only filling the coffee filter and pressing a button."

"I spar with Gloin, Dwalin, and Fili three times a week," Thorin offered meekly. Dori glared at him before rolling his eyes. "Surely that must earn me some degree of an automatic coffee maker."

"I'll buy you the cups for Yule-tide," Dori said, patting Thorin on the shoulder. "Now quit acting like a spoiled brat and tell me what Dwalin and Nori are arguing about." Thorin glanced over his shoulder to find the two crewmembers had returned to conversing about Nori's offer. Bofur still looked nervous while Dwalin assured the engineer it wouldn't hurt too much. At least, not the first dozen rounds.

"Nori's offer," was all Thorin had to say before Dori puffed red with indignation.

"I can't believe they're still going on about that," the shorter Dwarf hissed. "That was years ago."

"Nori remembers things a bit too well," Thorin pointed out.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Dori muttered under his breath. "He's still sour about me not getting him that lock-picking set for Yule-tide over a century ago." Thorin huffed in amusement. Dori ignored him to march toward Bofur and wrench the carafe away from the engineer. Bofur whined for the loss of his sweet nectar. "Knock that off, Bofur, you're not a child. Besides, it's empty."

"But it's good," Bofur whimpered. He made a grabbing motion with his fingers but Dori held the carafe away from him. "Please give it back. I said please."

"No," Dori snapped. "You'll only overdose on caffeine again. Mahal knows we don't need to pump your stomach out without Oin around. He's the only one who can stand you when you're sick."

"But, _Dori_!"

"Don't 'Dori' me."

Thorin watched the exchange with amusement, not evening noticing a strange sound until it came again. "Psst!" Glancing around, Thorin found the source of the sound at the base of the stairs leading to the upper levels. Fili stood on the second to last step, hidden in the shadows. Having caught his uncle's attention, he waved a hand in a _come hither_ gesture. Thorin made his way slowly through the slowly crowding kitchen, as both Gloin and Bombur had woken up, toward the stairs. Fili retreated a few steps up, forcing Thorin to follow him to the small landing.

"Fili," Thorin greeted once they'd stopped ascending the stairs. "I have not even had my coffee yet."

"I know," Fili said. He wrung his hands nervously, worrying his lip between his teeth. "But I needed to talk to you before anyone else heard." Thorin opened his mouth to ask his nephew what in the name of Mahal was he talking about when Fili leveled him with a serious gaze. "It's about Nori."

Thorin's smile slipped from his face. Bofur's roaring laughter seemed to sink back into a tunnel. Nothing else mattered right now but his black-market ambassador.

"What did he say?" Thorin asked sharply. Fili bit down hard on his lip, drawing a drop of blood. Thorin seized his nephew by his shoulders and shook him once. "Tell me!"

"H-He's on his way to us," Fili stuttered out. Thorin stopped shaking him at once. "He wanted to know where we were so I told him to meet us on Lothlórien."

"Did he say anything else?" Thorin asked, and Fili shook his head. "Nothing about Bilbo?"

"Nope. He just wanted coordinates to our next destination."

"What is he doing?" Thorin asked in a soft voice. Fili could only shrug in answer. "Sometimes I worry about that thief."

O.o.O

His nerves buzzed with energy. The hairs along his arms and neck seemed to stand on end, as though someone had given him static shock. The pounding in his head came next. It beat like a drum against the inside of his skull. The pain focused to pinpoints directly behind his head. Groaning, Bilbo shifted his head slightly. His cheek brushed against something coarse and familiar. His shoulders ached with an unfamiliar pain.

"_The pines were roaring on the height."_

The words seemed to seep into Bilbo's bones. The song reverberated through his body and soaked into his heart which beat in tune. It reminded him of happier times. Moments when he'd laughed and cried. When he'd felt the safest.

"_The winds were moaning in the night._

_The fire was red, it flaming spread,_

_The trees like torches, blazed with light."_

_Nori_. Bilbo's eyes flew open with the realization. He knew the feeling of worn cotton against this cheek. The voice that carried a hymn-like tune sounded like a welcome home. _Nori._ The memories came back. He'd been talking to his friend before he'd grabbed the convertor to tighten it. The pain of the voltage scorching through his bones had been terrible.

"Mph," Bilbo mumbled. His words were caught behind a cloth gag tied in his mouth. It pinned his tongue behind his teeth and rubbed at the corners of his lips. "Mph!" The rest of his predicament came to him with the realization of the gag. Someone had bound his arms behind him in a painful position along with his legs.

"Hey, buddy." Bilbo's had whipped around so fast his neck cricked. Nori crouched over him, a soft smile on his lips. "Sorry about the shock. How do you feel?"

_You trusted him,_ a soft voice said in the back of Bilbo's mind. _You trusted him and he betrayed you. _Bilbo whimpered behind the gag.

Nori's face softened at the sound. "Here," he said. "Let me help you with that." Reaching around Bilbo's head, the Dwarf deftly untied the gag and drew it out of Bilbo's mouth. Bilbo smacked his dry lips a few times. The taste of cotton remained on his tongue like a bad aftertaste.  
>"How's that?"<p>

"Nori," Bilbo said the moment he could. "You can't do this. I told you my story."

"I know," Nori said gently, sitting back on his heels. Bilbo struggled to roll over on the ground. His bonds prevented him from sitting up against the wall. "I didn't forget it yet."

"Then you have to know how dangerous this is," Bilbo urged. "Let me go and I won't make you stay with me. You can go into hiding."

"Bilbo," Nori said with a chuckle. Bilbo scowled at the idea of Nori taking this so lightly. "You're underestimating us. We Dwarves weren't born yesterday. We know how to take care of ourselves."

"You don't understand," Bilbo argued. "He'll kill you. He's already killed three of you."

Nori sobered up at that. "You don't say that," he said. "Ori's still alive. I can feel it in my bones."

"Face it, Nori," Bilbo snapped. "Ori's dead. He's been dead for thirteen years." _Smack_. Both he and Nori froze. The Dwarf held his hand at shoulder-height, a surprised look in his face. Slowly, he glanced between his own hand and Bilbo whose face had begun to burn.

"Bilbo," Nori said, but the act was done.

_Dangerous_._ Need to escape. Can't be here. He's in league with _him_. _Bilbo's chest heaved with his breaths. The voice whispering to him sounded more reasonable with each passing second. _No way now. Only one way out._

"Bilbo, I'm sorry," Nori pleaded. His hands danced around Bilbo, as though he was afraid to touch the Hobbit. Bilbo drew back away from him. "Please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it. You surprised me." Turning his face, Bilbo rolled his tongue around his mouth. Nori continued to plead for his forgiveness, the Dwarf's hands patting at Bilbo's shoulders and running through his hair.

_Do it. Do it now._ Shutting his eyes tight, Bilbo shifted his tongue to the fore of his mouth. Something in the back of his mind wanted him to stop. This was wrong. He didn't have to do it. Bilbo placed the smallest amount of pressure on his tongue with his teeth.

"Hey! HEY!" Bilbo squealed in surprise when firm hands grabbed his face. Strong fingers clamped down hard on the hinge of his jaw. The move forced Bilbo's mouth to fall open. "Don't do that," Nori chided. Bilbo jerked at his head but the Dwarf held him still. "You don't have to do that, buddy."

Wrenching his jaw out of Nori's grip proved to be impossible. Bilbo settled for trying to bite down. His teeth scraped painfully against the sides of his mouth. The blood pounded in his ears with the adrenaline surging through his veins. Nori's voice faded away into the background. He didn't matter anymore at the moment. All that mattered was escaping this prison. A thumb slipped into Bilbo's mouth and pressed down on his tongue. Shrieking furiously, Bilbo bit down hard. His teeth connected painfully with a solid golden ring. He'd forgotten about the ring Nori wore on his right thumb.

"Just relax, Bilbo," Nori cooed softly. His left hand rooted around his lap until he found the gag. "It's going to be all right. We'll be back home soon." Bilbo shook his head, trying to free his mouth from the strong grip. Nori hummed a soothing note as he pressed the gag back into Bilbo's mouth. No matter how much he fought, Bilbo couldn't stop the impending doom. The thumb slipped from his mouth. Nori bound the gag tightly behind Bilbo's head.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo," Nori said, running a hand through Bilbo's hair. Bilbo jerked his head away and the Dwarf's eyes saddened. "We'll be home soon. Thorin and Dwalin can help us when we get back." Shaking his head, Bilbo whimpered softly. "How about I give you something to help you sleep? Would you like that?" Bilbo shook his head again but he had no way to stop the needle from pressing into neck. The syringe hissed near his left ear. Several seconds passed before the black dots swarmed over Bilbo's vision. He was asleep before his head even hit the floor.

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Please remember to keep your hands and feet in the ship at all times. We are now entering the dangerous, uncharted territories of Moria. Please enjoy your flight!_


	31. Lake Riddles

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good afternoon!_

_I'm glad I didn't try to write this last night. It wouldn't have turned out as well as it did._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Lake Riddles<strong>

Hobbits, it turned out, did not do well under the pressure of the Big Folk. Especially when they were all yelling at him to _pull up, pull up!_ What had started as a decently safe descent into Moria's airspace had ended in a crash landing. Said crash landing had taught the crew of _the Fellowship_ three things about physics: Dwarves can fly despite their large mass, Elves are not entirely immune to the laws of physics, and Hobbits would always end up on the bottom of a puppy pile.

"Get off," Sam growled. He shoved Legolas' legs off his head. The Elf moaned as his bruised body jostled against Gimli's hard helmet.

"Is everyone all right?" Aragorn asked, picking himself up from the top of the pile. Gandalf stood beside him, somehow having managed to have kept his feet. The Wizard watched the proceedings with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I think I have broken something," Legolas moaned.

"Shut up, you dratted Elf," Gimli growled, shoving at Legolas' torso. The Elf had somehow ended up draped across his smaller frame in his abrupt flying lesson. "Get off me!"

"Up you get, Legolas," Aragorn said. Grabbing one of Legolas' arms, he hauled the Elf upright. Legolas swayed back and forth momentarily before he wandered off to sit against the wall.

"Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked to the Hobbit with Gimli's head in his lap. Frodo nodded wordlessly but winced when Aragorn hauled him to his feet.

"Boromir, how's everything up there?" Aragorn called. Something on the level above crashed. A high-pitched yelp carried down through the hole in the floor. "Boromir?"

"Just a second," Boromir shouted back. "Pippin's tangled up in the wires."

"What happened?" Aragorn demanded. "Is he all right?"

"Just a bit of free falling," Boromir answered. "He's bruised but he should be fine."

"Merry, how are you?" Aragorn said. No answer came from the cockpit. "Merry, answer me." The Hobbit continued in his moment of silence. "Legolas, come with me," Aragorn ordered. The Elf groaned but followed him across the cargo bay, up the stairs, and to the cockpit. There they found Merry unconscious in the pilot's seat among the mass of squealing alarms and blinking screens. A trail of blood trickled down the side of his head where it had connected with the controls.

"Is he all right?" Legolas asked as Aragorn checked the head injury. Merry groaned when the fingers pressed against a tender point. His eyes flickered open.

"Merry," Aragorn said urgently. "How do you feel?"

"Like a million bucks," Merry mumbled. "Tell Underhill to save the yellow ones. They're only puppies." Aragorn and Legolas exchanged worried looks. The harness unlocked when Aragorn slapped the release button. Legolas lifted a moaning Merry onto his hip.

"Get him downstairs," Aragorn ordered. "I'm going to check on Boromir and Pippin." Legolas gave him a single nod before heading toward the hole in the floor. Aragorn had barely opened his mouth to stop the Elf when Legolas leapt through the hole to the level below. Merry's squeal would have made Aragorn laugh if this hadn't been such a serious situation.

"Boromir," Aragorn called.

"Aragorn, come help me," Boromir answered. "I can't get Pip out of this rigging."

Leaving the cockpit, Aragorn made his way across the hall to the engine room. Several support beams had been knocked out of place. Light bulbs hung from their sockets, sputtering with the last dregs of their energy. The engine room had fared no better. The engine smoked in her cradle, some of the metal parts still glowing red in their previous effort to keep the ship running. Tools littered the floor. Cords swayed from the pipes in the ceiling. A few wires inside the wall had snapped and were now sparking dangerously.

"Behind the engine," Boromir called.

Aragorn ducked as a wire crackled over his head. The sparks struck his face and burned, causing him to flinch. Stepping around the end of the engine proved a difficult feat with the amount of tools and spare parts that littered the floor. Aragorn almost slipped several times on an unseen wrench or washer.

Eventually Aragorn managed to make it around the engine. The first thing he saw was Boromir's back. The Man held something before him, muttering in soft words. The second thing was Pippin hanging upside from the pipes. The Hobbit's legs were wrapped tightly in cords.

"What happened?" Aragorn asked.

Boromir glanced over his shoulder before turning his attention back to Pippin. "He was hanging from the pipes again," he said. "Trying to fix the engine. The cords caught him when he fell."

"Not part of my plan, yeah," Pippin said through gritted teeth.

"Hold on," Aragorn said, ducking past Boromir. Straightening up, he examined the cords wound around Pippin's legs. Nothing seemed too bad with them. He could cut through the cords easily enough without hurting Pippin. He might have to loosen a few manually but other than that . . . Aragorn froze, his fingers only inches away from Pippin's left leg, when his gaze landed on one of the cords. Sparks flew from the end of it. Slowly, Aragorn followed its path back to the generator.

"What is it?" Boromir asked softly.

"_A live wire_," Aragorn said in Sindarin. Boromir sucked in a breath. Thinking about daisies and sunshine, Aragorn continued. "_I can cut the rest of the wires free._"

"_Do it_," Boromir answered in the same language. Nodding to the Man, Aragorn drew his knife from his belt. He slowly began the process of cutting the cords free. Boromir supported a whimpering Pippin by the shoulders.

"I can't feel my feet," Pippin mumbled, and Boromir shushed him.

Pippin's right leg came free without a hitch. Boromir shifted his grip, wrapping one arm around Pippin's shoulders and holding the free leg in his other hand. Aragorn cut the cords around Pippin's left leg, mindful of the live wire near his hand. Several times the wire sparks, sending bits of searing pain down his hand. By the time Aragorn's shoulders had begun to ache from reaching up he'd cut every other cord but the live wire. Lowering his arms, he glanced sideways at Boromir.

"What is it?" Boromir asked.

"I've cut every other one," Aragorn said before nodding meaningfully toward Pippin who had plugged his nose to stave off a nosebleed. "I should be able to loosen it. You can pull his leg free."

Boromir nodded. "Right." Leaning down, he spoke quietly into Pippin's ear. "There's a live wire around your left leg. Aragorn's going to loosen it so we can get your leg free. Stay as still as you can."

"O-Okay," Pippin whimpered.

Sharing a glance with Boromir, Aragorn sheathed his knife. Cautiously he reached up toward the wire. It had only wound once around Pippin's legs. It wouldn't take much to free the Hobbit's leg from its confines. Taking a steadying breath, Aragorn wrapped one hand around the live wire. The sparks danced wildly. Pippin's whimper reached his ear as several struck his legs. Boromir shushed the Hobbit quietly.

"On the count of three," Aragorn said. "I'm going to loosen the cord and you get Pippin free. Don't move too quickly."

"Do it."

"One," Aragorn said softly, wriggling his fingers under the looped end of the cord. "Two." Boromir stiffened his hold on Pippin, releasing one leg to grab the other. "Three." Aragorn carefully widened the loop of the cord. Boromir bent his knees, slowly lowering Pippin's leg out of the loop. Once Pippin's leg was clear of any harm, Aragorn dropped the cord where it crackled and fizzled in midair.

"Go," he ordered, waving a hand at Boromir. "Get downstairs now." Boromir hastened without another word. Pippin tucked in his arms, he hustled out of the engine room toward the stairs. Aragorn followed him, ducking under various cords and beams.

The rest of the crew had gathered down in the cargo bay. Merry's head had been bandaged by Legolas. The Hobbit sat with a dazed look in his eyes, occasionally closing his eyes and letting his head drop. Legolas would shake him awake in these moments and Merry would groan. Gandalf had worked with Gimli, Frodo, and Sam to separate what supplies had survived the crash landing. These supplies had been stored in rucksacks for the Big Folk to carry.

"All ready?" Gandalf asked when he spotted Aragorn.

"As ready as we can be," Aragorn answered. Boromir lowered Pippin to ground so he could grab his sword from the pile of weapons Gimli had made. Aragorn seized his own then shoved a small sword into Pippin's hands.

"Then let's see what kind of trouble we've landed in," Gandalf said with a meaningful glance toward Merry. It earned him a filthy look from the Hobbit.

Gandalf led the way toward the stern of the ship, a few rucksacks slung over his arms. Gimli carried the rest over his shoulders. Boromir carried Pippin in his arms while Legolas allowed Merry to ride on his back. The pilot remained slightly out of it, even when Pippin poked him in the side of the head. Aragorn didn't miss the way Frodo massaged his chest or how Sam walked with a definite limp in his step.

Boromir pressed the release button for the ramp when no one else made the move to do so. Hydraulic locks screeched open, perhaps bent in the wrong direction, and the ramp swung open with a swish. Water splashed in every which way as it fell hard. The foul droplets splattered across Aragorn's face. Sam made a disgusted choking sound, shaking his hand.

"It's just water," Gandalf chided, but he moved with hesitant steps. His staff clicked against the metal ramp with each step.

Aragorn followed his old friend down the ramp where water lapped at the edge. Algae and bits of seaweed floated on the surface. Stepping down, Aragon made sure he had a footing before lowering his other foot into the knee-deep water. The algae and seaweed stuck to his boots as he turned to the ramp. Boromir stepped down next. Aragorn's hands hovered nearby, ready to catch the Man should he fall. Holding Pippin in his arms had added another dangerous factor to slipping on rocks. Legolas followed Boromir's example, wary of the Hobbit on his back. Sam and Frodo both stood back on the ramp, casting weary glances at the water.

"Sam climb on my back," Aragorn ordered, turning around. The Hobbit made a suspicious sound in the back of his throat. "Don't worry. I won't let you fall in." Another moment passed before small arms wrapped around his neck. He ensured the Hobbit had a tight grip around his waist before he turned back around. "Frodo," he said. "You next."

"Can you carry both of us?" Fordo asked in a breathless voice.

"You're Hobbits," Aragorn said, and Sam growled in an insulted sort of tone. "Light as can be. Now come here."

"Hurry up," Boromir added. "I don't like standing in this water. It makes me feel sick."

Frodo hesitated for only a second before he inched his way toward Aragorn. His small hands grabbed onto the Ranger's shoulders. Wrapping one arm under Frodo's legs, Aragon lifted him onto his hip. Frodo settled there easily, though his grip was nervous on Aragorn's cloak.

"Everyone ready," Aragorn asked.

"No," Sam said in small voice near his right ear. Aragorn smiled to himself and slowly turned to find Gandalf had already made it to the rocky shoreline, Gimli close behind. Legolas had gone halfway, one arm wrapped behind him to support Merry.

"Come on," Boromir said to Aragorn. "Let's get out of this filthy water." Nodding in agreement, Aragorn trudged alongside the Man. Their boots sloshed through the water. Ripples cascaded out from their steps. Occasionally Aragorn would have to lift his leg high out of squelching mud in order to continue on. Only once did his foot slip against something unusually slippery. Aragorn barely caught himself that time, aware of the Hobbits whimpering in his arms.

"Careful," Boromir said.

"Just a rock," Aragorn grunted, straightening up. Something wrapped lightly around his ankle but he brushed it aside as bits of seaweed.

"Are we there yet?" Sam asked.

"Almost," Aragorn assured him as he continued marching through the water. He'd only just reached the shore when a strange sound met his ear. _Plop_. Whirling about, Aragorn scanned the water's surface. Ripples meandered across the surface, originating from the base of a tree.

"Aragorn," Boromir called, and Aragorn turned back around to find the Man standing on the shore. He'd lowered Pippin to the rocky ground beside Merry. Forgetting about the strange sound, Aragorn made his way to the shore. Sam slipped from his back almost immediately and he lowered Frodo down. Both Hobbits said beside their friends, faces pale and limbs shaking.

There was only about three feet of shoreline to speak of. The water lapped gracelessly against the bits of shale and granite that littered the shore. Great walls of stone towered high above the lake, casting an eerie shadow over them all. Set against the wall, spaced several apart, were two holly trees. Their leafless branches arched toward one another, as though making a gate. There was no sun to shine down on their small part, only the faint light of the stars.

"What is this place?" Frodo asked in a hushed voice.

"The western gates of Moria," Gandalf answered as he examined the walls. "Once upon a time this entrance was used by many. The holly trees you see here were planted by the Elves in the time of peace."

"A peace the Elves broke," Gimli grumbled.

"I have heard otherwise," Legolas countered. "My people say it was the Dwarves who broke the peace."

"And I've heard both stories," Gandalf snapped. "So knock it off the both of you before I leave you here to find your own way home." Legolas hid as he turned to face Aragorn. Gimli huffed indignantly. "Now, if you will leave me in peace I'll try to find the door."

"What door?" Sam asked. Merry glanced up from staring at a rock with unfocussed eyes.

"The western gate," Gandalf answered. "The Dwarves built hidden doors back in the day when they rarely trusted anyone." Legolas opened his mouth to speak but Aragorn grabbed his arm, shaking his head. The Elf just huffed quietly in amusement. "Some might call it magic but the Dwarves called it science."

"They're astral doors," Gimli grunted. "There's nothing magical about them."

"What's an astral door?" Sam asked Aragorn quietly.

"They're doors that only appear in the light of stars," Aragorn answered the same soft tones. "Sometimes the Dwarves made them to only appear in the light of certain constellations."

"Oh."

"What about this door?" Frodo asked. "Did we come at the wrong time?"

"These _Ithildin_ gates," Gandalf said, raising his voice to be heard. "Are not like most others. They were built to facilitate trade between the Elves and Dwarves. They were only closed after Sauron began to seize control of the universe. I'll only need to shed a little light and the gates will appear. Now be quiet, all of you."

The crew obediently kept their questions and remarks to themselves as Gandalf began to mutter under his breath. Something jabbed Aragorn hard in the ribs. He glanced sideways to find Boromir jerking his head toward Pippin. The Hobbit stared out at the lake, a pained expression on his face. Moving quietly, so as to not disturb Gandalf, Aragorn crouched beside his small friend. Boromir stood at his back, watching Gandalf work.

"Pippin," Aragorn said. When his words did nothing to rouse Pippin he shook the Hobbit gently by the shoulder. Pippin's gaze shifted toward him. "What is it? Do you hear something?"

"I hear something in the water," Pippin whispered. "Something old." Aragorn glanced toward the lake. The water lapped in an almost harmless manner against the shoreline. "It's yawning, waking up."

"Can you tell what it is?" Aragorn asked, and Pippin shook his head.

"Ah!" Gandalf's exclamation drew Aragorn's attention away from the problem at hand. The Wizard stood before a shining gate. Elvish runes arched along the rounded top, seven stars following their path beneath them.

"What does it say?" Sam asked curiously.

"_The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria,_" Gandalf translated, running his staff along the top of the gate. "_Speak, friend, and enter._"

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked in a wavering voice. Aragorn shushed him, placing a careful hand on Merry's head. The Hobbit needed to rest before he hurt himself any further.

"It's simple," Gandalf answered. "If you're a friend you speak the password the doors will open for you." Placing the tip of his staff against the center star in the gate, he spoke in a commanding voice, "_Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen._" The crew waited with baited breath but nothing happened for several seconds. "That's strange," Gandalf muttered to himself. Lowering his staff, he ran a hand through his beard. "Maybe I was wrong."

"Great," Boromir muttered under his breath. "We're locked outside the mines with a broken down ship." Sadly for him, his voice carried across the rock to the Gandalf.

"Behave yourself," Gandalf barked. "Or I'll knock your head against these walls and leave you here." Boromir huffed furiously but turned his attention back to Pippin. The Hobbit continued to stare out at the water, as though sensing something.

Time seemed to drag on. Gandalf continued to mutter at the doors. Nothing he said would open them, though, and they remained locked outside the mines. Any help Gimli attempted to give only caused more frustration for Gandalf. Eventually he threw down his staff and fell onto a boulder.

"It's no use," he said. "I can't get them open." Aragorn sighed to himself and turned in time to see Boromir kick a rock into the water. The stone tumbled against the shale before plopping into the lake. The ripples shifted along the surface of the lake, disappearing into the distance.

"Don't do that," Frodo begged. "I hate this place already. It makes me nervous."

"Speak, friend, and enter," Merry muttered to himself. "Speak, _friend,_ and enter. _Speak_, friend, and enter." Aragorn and Legolas shared a look. Aragorn suspected a concussion but there was no way to tell without decent light and time to check on Merry.

"Speak, _friend_, and enter," Gandalf repeated softly before laughing. "Merry, you're a genius. You've solved a riddle too simple for a sophisticated mind." Standing, he grabbed his staff and stood before the door of Moria. "_Mellon_." The doors cracked open with a groan. Dust fell as they did, sprinkling those nearby.

"Nice, Merry," Frodo said with a grin. Merry just hummed as Legolas lifted him up from the rock.

"Pippin," Aragorn said. "Let's go." The Hobbit in question jerked, as though he'd been electrocuted, and followed the others into the mine.

"Do you supposed we'll find your family in here?" Frodo asked Gimli.

"There's no way to tell," the Dwarf said. "They could be alive or they could be dead. Anything could have happened in thirteen years."

"I hope they survived these mines," Legolas said softly. "I enjoyed spending time with them. It would be a sad day if Ori, Balin, and Oin died down here."

"Quiet, all of you," Gandalf ordered. Something clacked in the dark and bright light suddenly shone from Gandalf's staff. Raising a hand to shield his eyes, Aragorn looked around himself.

"This is no mine," Boromir said softly. His voice carried through the tall tunnel. "It's a tomb."

What had once been a grand entrance to Moria had since deteriorated over time. Chunks of rock littered split steps. Bits of stone had been chipped out of the stairwell, leaving great gouges to be avoided. It was the bodies, though, that Aragorn saw first. Skeletons covered in pieces of disintegrating armor decorated the floor. A black spider graced the only wall that had remained unmarked in all the damages.

"Do we have to go this way?" Sam asked in a soft voice. Aragorn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

"We have no choice," Gandalf answered. "Merry crashed the ship beyond repair." Merry made an insulted sound. "We'll have to make the four day journey through Moria." Sam whimpered and Aragorn squeezed his shoulder again.

"Strider," Pippin said softly. Aragorn turned to find the Reader staring forward with a glazed expression. "There's something out there. It's coming this way." Gandalf turned on the spot, his eyes finding Pippin immediately.

"What is it?" the Wizard demanded. "What do you hear?"

"I-I don't know," Pippin answered. His eyes shifted with a blind gaze as he tried to Read further. "I-I can't find it. It's old and tired . . . hungry. Always hungry."

"What does that mean?" Sam asked. "What's he talking about?"

Whatever Pippin's answer would have been, no one would ever know. For at that moment Frodo gave a great screech of surprise when his legs jerked out from under him. Whirling around, Aragorn had time to see the Hobbit screaming as he was dragged backward by a slimy tentacle. Finger-like tendrils had wrapped up his right calf. Frodo's fingers scrabbled helplessly against the stone floor.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried out as he leapt forward, drawing his sword. Legolas dropped Merry unceremoniously to the floor and seized his bow from around his back, notching an arrow. Aragorn drew his own weapon and made to rescue the Ring-bearer. He was too late, though. Sam beat him to it and, hacking away at the tentacle, freed Frodo from the slimy beast. A great roar carried up from the lake as the tentacle drew back.

"Into the mines," Gandalf shouted. "Quickly, before it comes back!"

"Frodo, Sam," Aragorn called over the roaring sound. The tentacles had already begun to reappear, groping for the door. Sam managed to drag Frodo up from the floor. Frodo stumbled along behind his friend toward the rock-and-body-littered stairs.

"Move! Move!" Gandalf ordered. Gimli and Boromir managed to herd the four Hobbits further into the mines just as the tentacles wrenched the support out of the door. The stone tumbled down from its former home to crack against the floor. Dust billowed out, covering the entire crew.

The entire ordeal lasted perhaps only minutes. The crashing of the rocks was followed by a terrible grating sound as something was uprooted and thrown against the wall. Aragorn stood on the stairs with Sam and Frodo clinging to his cloak. Somewhere behind him Pippin whimpered and Boromir shushed him. The dust cleared enough to reveal the collapsed gate. There would be no leaving the mines from that way anymore.

"That was close," Gimli commented. Frodo made a choked sound in the back of his throat.

"It's all right," Aragorn told the Hobbit softly.

"We now have but one choice," Gandalf said, turning toward the gate behind. "To face the long dark of Moria."

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_In the book it was Merry who solved the riddle for Gandalf. Boromir was the one to throw the stone. The trees were uprooted by the Watcher and in the Water._

_Now, I'm off to pay tuition then do my homework. MAYBE I might be able to update later._


	32. Mine Issues

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_A chapter before I return to my homework. It seems like that's all I ever do anymore. Well, here you are. We've begun our long trek through Moria!_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Mine Issues<strong>

Nori felt _awful_. Never before in his seventy-seven years of knowing Bilbo Baggins had he struck out at the Hobbit. Sure he'd tackled him a few times and even clubbed him over the head with a book, but it had all been in fun and games. He'd never actually meant to hurt his friend. And now, for the first time in his long life, he'd hurt an innocent creature, someone he'd considered to be more than friend, more than family.

He hadn't meant to hit Bilbo. It had been a furious overreaction to Bilbo's words: Ori's dead. He'd seen the terror and pain in Bilbo's eyes after it had happened. The way the Hobbit looked as though he'd been betrayed by his closest friend had broken Nori's heart. He hadn't even been able to digest what had happened until he'd seen the red handprint again Bilbo's cheek. And then Bilbo had signed the ultimatum: he'd tried to bite his own tongue off. Ever since then Nori had kept the Hobbit sedated with whatever drugs he'd been able to grab from _Serenity_.

_Ping_. Wrenched out of his thoughts, Nori glanced sideways at the screen to his right. A series of coordinates danced across the screen before vanishing without a trace. _Sparrow_ was checking in from . . . the far eastern Khazad System it looked like. _Serenity_ was still following her, hailing for Underhill to answer them.

"Good," Nori muttered under his breath. "Let's keep it that way. _Mockingbird_, let me up." The words were accompanied with a roll of his shoulders. The ship whooped twice in response. Locks clicked as they released and the harness pinning Nori down lifted up with a slight hiss.

Rolling his shoulders again to get the feeling back in them, Nori stood from the pilot seat. It was a long bench with the front quarter lifted at an angle. The angle allowed for the occupant to rest comfortably forward with the harness pinning them down while at the same time being able to reach the controls. Sometimes Nori still wondered how Bofur could have invented this marvel of a ship but couldn't name a single engine part if you held a grenade in his face. Nori had tried. That hadn't gone over so well with Dori.

"Let me know if anything comes up," Nori told the ship which beeped in answer. "I'm going to try and get some shut eye." The screens aboard the ship dimmed, allowing most of the cockpit to fall into near darkness. Nori snorted and shook his head. The AIs of these ships could be so human in their responses sometimes. It amazed him.

A whimper caught Nori's attention. Turning on the spot, he found Bilbo asleep on the floor, his head still resting comfortably on Nori's rolled up coat. His whole body had gone tense in his sleep. Wrinkles marred the normally smooth forehead. His eyes flicked to and for under his eyelids, making them flutter in his sleep. Nori frowned when his friend whimpered again. It was a nightmare for sure.

"Hey, buddy," Nori said softly. Bilbo wouldn't be able to hear him in his sedated state but his friend usually reacted well to the deep voices of Dwarves, even in his sleep. Creeping toward the sleeping form of Bilbo, Nori continued to speak soothing words in Khuzdul. They helped somewhat. Bilbo's whimpers ceased, only to be replaced by heavy breathing in his fear.

"It'll be all right," Nori said as he crouched down beside his friend. Slowly, so he wouldn't jostle Bilbo, he sat back against the wall. It didn't take much effort to lift the sleeping Hobbit into his lap. Rearranging Bilbo, he allowed the Hobbit's head to rest on his chest over his heart. He'd seen Dwalin do it plenty of times and it had always worked for him.

"_Far over_," Nori sang softly. _"The misty mountains cold._" The words resonated through his chest and made his ribs tickle. _"To dungeons deep and caverns old._" Bilbo's breathing began to slow as the song continued. Nori carried the familiar tune until he'd reached the end of it then began again. All the while Bilbo's body slowly relaxed against his as he sank further into sleep.

Only when Nori was nearly one hundred percent certain the nightmare had passed did he stop singing. Grabbing his bundled up coat, he shook it out before draping it over his friend's still frame. It dwarfed Bilbo's already small body. He looked like a child trying to play dress up in his father's clothes. Nori chuckled at that thought as he allowed his body to relax. His head plonked back against the steel wall of the ship and he was asleep before he could think another thought.

O.o.O

Gimli had once described the great halls of Erebor for Frodo on a particularly boring day aboard their ship. His words had been simple: roaring fires, malt beer, and ripe meat of the bone. It hadn't done much for Frodo's impression of Dwarves, or knowledge. Legolas and Gandalf had been a bit more helpful when it came to telling the Hobbits about the Lonely Mountain.

It was a great mountain built of vast tunnels. Miles of mines wound their way under the roots of the mountains. It had taken several years but with the aid of updated technology and hundreds of helping hands the Dwarves had gotten them up and running again. The many homes built into the walls of the mountain were filled once more. Lights twinkled like stars high above the lower marketplaces. Song filled the mountain once more accompanied with good cheer, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home. The ancient Khazad kingdom had returned to its full glory with Dain as king and occasionally, when he got bored of being captain for a week, Thorin. Ships came and went as they pleased to make trade with the Dwarves, though the Government ships were warned to stay away. Life was good for the Dwarves of Erebor.

Life was not so good for the Dwarves of Moria. If there were any left. In their first few hours of hiking through the mines Frodo had seen more than enough abandoned tunnels for one lifetime. Over a thousand years of neglect had caused them to fall apart. Great chunks of rock littered the floor. Occasionally the Fellowship had to climb over high mountains of them. In these times Aragorn and Boromir worked together to ferry the Hobbits over the boulders. Frodo tried to keep his gaze straight ahead during these moments of hiking through the halls in an effort to ignore the many bodies. They were everywhere: lying on the floor, propped against walls. It horrified him. After a quick examination of a particular arrow Legolas had named the culprit: Goblins.

"Are we there yet?" Merry moaned. Frodo glanced sideways at his cousin. The younger Hobbit moved back and forth with sluggish steps. They had stopped only an hour ago so Legolas could check on him. He'd found no signs of concussion and the Fellowship had moved on.

"We'll get there when we get there," Gandalf barked over his shoulder. "Now quiet, Meriadoc Brandybuck. There are fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the universe." Merry wrinkled his nose in confusion but didn't ask any further questions.

"Frodo," Aragorn said. Frodo glanced over his shoulder to find the Ranger watching him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Frodo said, slightly confused. "Why do you ask?"

"You keep massaging your chest," Aragorn answered. Frodo faltered in his steps. Had he been rubbing his chest? Ever since Bofur had given him the updated asthma medicine he'd become less aware of his problem though he knew it was still there. Sometimes his chest would constrict then suddenly relax as the medicine kicked in. In these moments he found himself sitting against a wall to recuperate.

"Should we stop?" Sam asked, having overheard the conversation.

"I'm fine," Frodo said again. Sam gave him an unconvinced sideways look. "Really, Sam, I haven't felt better. My legs a little sore from that creature we saw but otherwise I'm not hurt."

"Speak for yourself," Merry muttered. His steps carried him sideways into Gimli who gently herded him back toward the wall. "My head feels like there's a thousand Dwarves beating on it."

"Then that's a massive headache," Gimli commented. Frodo smiled at the jibe. Looking about himself, he wondered at what Moria must have been like in its great days.

They had long since entered the once working mines of Moria. The walls rose high for seven levels. Somehow, either naturally or through many years of hard work, the center in this part of the mountains had been hollowed out. Abandoned chains clinked in unseen winds. Thousand year old hoverboards and shuttles sat quietly at docks. Rusted parts had fallen off many years ago. A few ships had even crashed into the sides of the walls. Occasionally Frodo thought he caught a flicker of movement but then he'd look back and find nothing. They were alone, traversing dangerously along the side of the mines.

"Where's Pippin?" Boromir asked suddenly. Merry froze in his footsteps, looking about himself in horror. Turning on the spot, Frodo counted the heads he could see. Gandalf and Legolas moved at the front, that counted for two of their company; Gimli, Sam, and Boromir behind them made five; and Frodo, Merry, and Aragorn at the back made eight. They were one Hobbit short.

"Pip?" Merry called. His voice echoed off the high walls around them, carrying back to the group.

"Quiet," Gandalf ordered. "We don't want to wake anything."

"Legolas," Aragorn said. "You and I'll go check for him. He can't be far behind."

"I'll go," Boromir argued. Aragorn opened his mouth to argue but the Man shook his head. "He's my responsibility. I'll find him, you watch the others." Aragon sighed in defeat, nodding once. "Legolas," Boromir said sharply.

"I am right behind you," Legolas said, already skirting his way through the group. Sam pressed himself back against the wall to allow the Elf to pass him by. Gimli growled as Legolas patted him on the head. Frodo watched the Man and Elf disappear around the bend.

"Where do you think he got off to?" Sam wondered aloud. "You don't think he got attacked do you?"

"I couldn't say," Gandalf told Sam. Frodo looked back worriedly at the Wizard. How had none of the noticed the youngest member of their company falling behind? Pippin was easily the loudest of them all.

"He'll be all right, Sam," Aragorn said gently. "Maybe he just got tired and needed a rest."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Merry said in a soft voice. Several eyes turned to the dazed-looking Hobbit. "He always tells me when something's wrong. Why didn't he tell me this time?" Aragorn and Gandalf shared a look before the Wizard sighed.

"They're coming back," Gimli piped up. Whirling around, Frodo searched the dark before him. Sure enough stepping out of the gloom was Boromir and Legolas. Boromir had a small form propped on his hip, his hand running through long curls.

"Is everything all right?" Aragorn asked once the two had rejoined the group.

Boromir shifted Pippin slightly on his hip. "He Read too much," he answered. "He's hearing voices everywhere."

"Orcs?" Sam squeaked out, asking the question on everyone's mind.

"I can't say," Boromir said. "He wouldn't tell me anymore." Pippin whimpered into his neck, his hands clutching the Man's coat. Boromir held the Hobbit closer to himself.

"We're very fortunate to be traveling through Moria with a Reader," Gandalf commented from the front of the line. "One could even say we have a canary in the mines." Gimli glowered at him for that.

"We need to move on," Aragorn said. "We can't linger in one place for very long."

"Right you are," Gandalf agreed. "Boromir, you walk with the other Hobbits up by me. It will make it easier to defend you together. Gimli, walk beside me. Your eyes see the best in the dark. Legolas and Aragorn can bring up the rear." The Fellowship arranged themselves according to Gandalf's orders and they continued marching on through the mines.

They walked for what felt like hours. Frodo tried counting the amount of steps he'd taken but lost track after the first few thousand. His attention turned instead to staring at the ships lodged into the walls above their path. Those soon became too grisly, great dents and what were unmistakably skeletons decorating the ships, and Frodo turned his attention away.

It was during their trek across a dangerously railing-lacking bridge that he heard it. The sounds of bare soles slapping against the ground. For a moment he thought he'd imagined it. After several minutes of listening to the feet, though, he realized he wasn't. Using his ears for judgment, he counted the pairs of feet moving. The great clomping steps were Gimli. Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf moved with sure strides like mountain goats. Legolas' footsteps were hardly noticeable in his soft boots. Merry, Sam, and he all moved with barely a sound to be heard, though hear them Frodo did. Nine. He'd heard nine pairs of feet. That couldn't be right. Pippin was currently perched on Boromir's hips. There should have only been eight walkers. Glancing behind himself, Frodo scanned the darkness. He couldn't see anything but for Legolas and Aragorn following them.

"Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, noticing his friend's confusion.

"I thought I heard something," Frodo said softly.

"Must be the mines," Sam said. "I've been hearing strange things too. I swear I keep hearing something swishing. It sounds a bit like a rope, you know?"

"Yeah," Frodo said absently. "Rope."

The two Hobbits fell silent and continued to trek behind Gandalf. Frodo's legs had begun to ache with the amount of walking he'd done in one day without a single stop for rest or food. He ignored the pain in order to pay attention to the sounds around him. The sounds of bare feet continued to follow several yards behind them. Occasionally they'd stop but only when the Fellowship did. Sometimes Frodo swore he heard a hissing breath coming from somewhere behind him.

It came when Frodo's attention had begun to waver. The sounds of feet following him had faded in the background and slowly he became aware of a second sound. Sam was right. It sounded like a rope swishing through the air. The quietest crunches of breaking rocks accompanied it along with the barest hint of boots.

_Orcs_, said a small voice in the back of Frodo's mind. He swallowed hard. It would be just their luck to crash land on an abandoned planet, get attacked by some foul water creature, and then get themselves killed by an Orc. Wonderful. What a story he'd have to tell the folks back home.

Frodo collided hard with Merry's back. The Hobbit before him grunted but made no move to step forward. Rubbing his head, Frodo leaned around his cousin.

"What happened?" he asked. "Why've we stopped?"

"Gandalf's lost his way," Merry said softly.

Sure enough Gandalf stood before three doorways. The furthest to the left plunged down into darkness while the right path rose high beyond sight. The middle path continued on for what seemed to be forever.

"I have no memory of this place," Gandalf said. "We'll rest here for the night while I try to solve this riddle."

"Finally," Merry moaned, falling to the floor where he stood. Sam quickly followed his example as he sat atop a boulder. Boromir lowered a whining Pippin to the floor where Legolas sat quickly beside the Reader.

"You're doing it again, Frodo," Aragorn said softly, and Frodo absentmindedly dropped his hand. It seemed this was becoming a bad habit of his.

"I'm good," Frodo told Aragorn who smiled softly at him.

"Rest for a while. It'll do you good."

Frodo nodded and tried to sit down between Merry and Sam but found he was restless. The hissing breath not far away put him on edge and he continued to hear the strange sound of rope swishing through the air. Sam had only begun to nod off when Frodo gave it up for a lost cause and stood from the floor. Marching across the stone-strewn floor, he stood beside Gandalf. The Wizard sat on a boulder, a smoking pipe in his hand.

"Frodo," Gandalf greeted. "Why aren't you resting with the others? Merry and Sam have already fallen asleep."

"I keep hearing things," Frodo said in a hushed voice, glancing over his shoulder. The rest of the Fellowship remained dead to the universe as they tried to catch up on some much needed sleep. When he turned back around he found Gandalf watching him carefully.

"What have you heard?" Gandalf asked seriously. Frodo chewed his lip, hesitating for a moment. "Bilbo once saved Thorin and his crew from an Orc attack simply because he heard what they could not. This could be one of those situations. What have you heard?"

"Feet," Frodo answered, and Gandalf sighed. "Bare feet and a hissing breath. They sound like their following us."

"It's as I feared," Gandalf said. Frodo cast him a confused glance. "It's Gollum. He's been following us for several days on a small shuttle of his own."

"Gollum?" Frodo repeated. "But how? I thought the Orcs had captured him again."

"Rescued not captured," Gandalf corrected. "They attacked the Woodland Realm and took him back. Gollum must have left them. He's trying to find the Ring."

"What does he want with it?" Frodo asked. "I don't understand."

"Many of us do not," Gandalf said. Puffing away on his pipe, it several seconds passed before he spoke. "Gollum has grown addicted to the chemicals within the Ring. It has brought forth a side of him he's never liked. Bilbo met this side when they swapped riddles in exchange for Bilbo's life."

"Then Bilbo could have killed him?" Frodo asked.

"Aye, Bilbo had the chance several times."

"It's a pity he didn't."

"Pity?" Gandalf said sharply, looking hard at Frodo. Regret filled Frodo almost immediately. "It was pity that stopped Bilbo's hand at the time. Don't be so quick to judge others before you know them. Many who die deserve life and some who live deserve death. Can you give them that chance, Frodo?" Frodo pressed his lips together in a tight frown. Gandalf turned his attention back to the tunnels before him. "My heart tells me Gollum still has a part to play in this tale, whether good or bad. He's played a part with Bilbo now it's your turn." The words echoed through Frodo's mind and for a moment he thought back to his cozy _smial_.

"I wish the Ring had never come to me," he found himself saying. "I wish none of this had ever happened."

"So do all who live to see such times," Gandalf told him gently, wrapping an arm around Frodo's shoulders. Frodo leaned into the comforting hug and inhaled the familiar scent of Longbottom Leaf. It put him at ease with his troubles. "But that's not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. It was more than chance that helped Bilbo fine the Ring. I think he was meant to have it. In which case you were also meant to have the Ring, and that is an encouraging thought.

"Thanks, Gandalf," Frodo said.

"Anytime, Frodo," Gandalf said. "Now go get some rest. I'll wake you when I've made a decision." He gave Frodo one more hug before urging the Hobbit toward the rest of the group.

Frodo settled back down between Sam and Merry. Neither Hobbit seemed to notice his presence. Merry snuffled in his sleep and Sam huffed softly. Aragorn offered Frodo a nod before turning attention back to the massive cavern behind them. As his eyelids slipped shut Frodo spotted a crouching figure far away on a rock formation. It watched them, curiously still where it stood. The creature seemed to meet Frodo's eyes before it disappeared down the formation with a flick of a rope.

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I honestly didn't think the mines would carry past one chapter. This should be interesting. :)_


	33. Dwarrowdelf Discoveries

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good night!_

_So sorry for the late chapter. I started this on Sunday before work but then I didn't have the energy to finish it. When I tried to write yesterday it didn't come out the way I wanted. It finally worked tonight . . . after several hours of thinking. Ah well, it got done._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Dwarrowdelf Discoveries<strong>

Pippin woke groggily form a fitful sleep. His entire body ached from sleeping on the stone floor of the mines with only Legolas' lap as a pillow. A strange jelly sensation filled his limbs. It took all his focus and effort just to roll over onto his stomach and push himself upright. His thoughts were muddled. A headache grew behind his eyes from the amount of Reading he'd done. Being trapped in large, body-filled areas had never been good for him. It stressed his ability and lack of control.

Hunched over in a semi-awake position, Pippin looked about himself. Legolas had closed his eyes in an Elvish dream state. Boromir and Gimli sat a short distance away; Frodo, Sam, and Merry nestled between them. Merry's head had fallen sideways onto Gimli's shoulder. Boromir had wrapped his arm sometime in the night over Sam and Frodo's shoulders.

"_Need to make decision – can't linger – shouldn't be here – something wrong."_

Wrinkling his nose at the painful thoughts, Pippin twisted around to glance over at the Wizard. Gandalf and Aragorn sat side by side with their backs to the rest of the group. A trail of smoke rose from Gandalf's position. Soft mutters passed between them. Pippin couldn't make out the words without Reading and he wanted to avoid that as much as possible.

Pippin turned back around, his sensitive spine aching from the position, and nearly jumped out of his skin. His mouth fell open but no sound came. The yelp lodged painfully in his throat.

Crouched on the boulder behind Boromir was a creature Pippin had never seen before. It was unnaturally thin with a bowed back. No clothes hung from its frame but for the baggy outline on its lower body. Something akin to a rope swung over its shoulder with a strange swishing sound. Pinpricks of light swiveled through the dark to land on Pippin. They narrowed. Pippin shifted to the left and the creature imitated its movement. Yearning and hatred rolled off this creature in waves. They were too strong and masked any possible clear thoughts.

Swallowing hard, Pippin prepared to shout. The creature stiffened at the shift in his shoulders and the sharp inhale through his lips. It gave him one more curious glance before turning on the spot and leaping away with the flick of a rope. A squeak managed to escape Pippin's chest before the breath whooshed from his lungs.

Boromir stirred, waking from his sleep. "Pip?" he said groggily. He took in the stiffened state of Pippin's fear and his hand darted to the sword at his waist. "What is it? Did you hear something?"

"Th-There was something standing behind you," Pippin said in a wavering voice as he motioned to the boulder behind his friend. Boromir glanced curiously over his shoulder to where Pippin pointed. "It jumped, yeah." Easing Merry's weight off himself, Boromir stood and leaned over the boulder to look about. He straightened up after a minute of searching.

"There's nothing down there," Boromir said. "Are you sure it wasn't a trick of the light?" Pippin scowled at him and jerked his head toward Gandalf's staff. Boromir glanced sideways at it. "Right, no light."

"Ah, you're awake." Pippin twisted on the spot to find Gandalf watching him and Boromir. "Excellent. Aragorn, wake the others and we'll move on." _"Take the right way – don't like the smell of the left and the center makes me nervous – need to watch out for Gollum."_

"_Shouldn't have stayed this long – must be seeing things."_

"Pip! Pippin!" Pippin blinked as his whole world shook with the force of an earthquake. Stamping down the thoughts rushing to him, he turned his attention to Boromir. The Man crouched before him with his hands on Pippin's shoulders. A worried frown marred his forehead. _"Need to keep an eye on him – shouldn't have come this way – knew it was a bad idea – wish we weren't here."_

"I'm not seeing things," Pippin said softly. Boromir's frown turned to one of confusion until he continued. "You think I'm seeing things, yeah."

"I'm sorry, Pippin," Boromir said. Sitting back on his heels, he rested his arms on his knees. "It's this place. You haven't been able to Read properly ever since we stepped foot in that lake." _"Worried – need to be more careful – could be attacked – liability."_

"Something woke up, yeah," Pippin said in dazed realization as he thought back to the latest sensation. It'd been like a great yawn similar to the one he'd felt at the lake. "There's something in here. It's waking up too. It's been asleep for too long." Boromir watched him silently for a moment before standing and making his way to Aragorn. The two spoke in hushed tones.

Pippin turned his attention away from the Big Folk, instead focusing on the rest of the Fellowship. Legolas and Gimli had woken up from simple nudges courtesy of Aragorn. Sam, Merry, and Frodo were taking a bit more work. No matter how much Legolas and Gimli shook them they wouldn't wake up. Aragorn glanced away from his conversation with Boromir and took pity on his friends.

"_Need to move – don't want to wake up – shouldn't stay here – worried about Gollum – wish I'd stayed home – no choice now – would feel better if Tauriel was here – where's Ori – haven't seen any signs of Oin yet – need to move now – wake up – don't want to." _The sheer amount of voices echoing through his head made Pippin dizzy. He swayed on the spot, his eyes drooping on their own accord.

"Merry, Sam, Frodo," Aragorn called softly, snapping Pippin out of his Reading. The Ranger's voice echoed throughout the large cavern. It sounded eerie bouncing off the stone walls. "Breakfast time." That did the trick. Merry bolted upright, knocked heads with Gimli, and fell back. The Dwarf yelped in surprise but seemed otherwise unharmed courtesy of his thick skull. Sam twitched awake and Frodo gave a great yawn.

"_Why didn't he say so before – food – sounds good – hope we get out of here soon – creepy – don't want to hear any more of that rope – creeps me out – wish it would stop – want out."_

"Pip, food." Pippin turned his gaze forward to find Boromir crouching before him once more. The Man held a few strips of jerky in one hand and a bag of dried fruit in the other. "Are you feeling all right, Pippin?"

"I don't know," Pippin said honestly. Every move he made seemed to take a greater effort than the last. His mind had slowly become more muddled with the rest of the crew waking up. Their voices were too loud for him, all shouting something different.

"Have some food," Boromir urged, pressing the meat and fruit into Pippin's hands. "You'll feel better." _"Turn to skin and bones – don't want to see him hurt – need to keep an eye on him."_

Pippin accepted the food wearily and watched as Boromir stood to wander back toward Aragorn. The two Big Folk resumed their former conversation. Munching dizzily on a piece of jerky, Pippin didn't even notice the lack of taste in it. Had he been more conscious of the taste of ash in his mouth he might have complained loudly for everyone else to hear.

The Big Folk wandered about the small platform as they prepared to leave. Legolas checked Merry over once more before declaring his head fine. Aragorn and Boromir finished their heated but quiet discussion then helped Gimli pass out food to the other Hobbits. Sam muttered over the lack of good food but ate it anyway. Gandalf seemed to find this highly amusing. His eyes twinkled in the gloom of the mines. They reminded Pippin too much of the eyes he'd seen and he had to look away.

"I've made my decision," Gandalf said once everyone had eaten. The crew stood in a loose group around him, all with their hands nervously on their weapons. Pippin swayed where he stood, aware of Boromir's hand on his shoulder. The words Gandalf spoke seemed to nestle inside his own head as though he himself had made the decision. He found himself mouthing along with Gandalf's speech. "I'm taking the right path up. I don't like the feel of the center path and the left smells . . ."

". . . foul," Pippin finished before becoming aware of several pairs of eyes turned on him. Blinking blearily, he stared back at them. "What?"

"Pippin," Merry hissed. "I've told you not to do that. You're going to make someone mad." _"Shouldn't have brought him – too dangerous – can't focus – can't take care of him."_

"Do what?" Pippin asked in confusion. Merry scowled at him, clearly expecting him to know. Pippin felt his brow furrow in confusion. The sensation of worry and aggravation washed over him all in one from the group.

"You were repeating Gandalf," Aragorn said slowly. _"Wish we had something to help him – should have brought drug Thorin gave me – too late now."_

"No, not repeating," Legolas corrected. "You were speaking with him, word for word." _"Kili was right – will need to talk to him afterward –would be easier with Tauriel here."_

"Oh." Pippin swayed where he stood. His eyelids felt heavy, too heavy to remain open any longer.

"I don't believe this is his fault," Gandalf said from the front of the group. "Controlling his ability is not a possibility right now. Peregrin will be struggling with it until we leave these mines." _"May be liability – will need to keep an eye on him – safer to have him with us."_

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Frodo asked uneasily. _"Worried – so young – Thorin was right."_

"Boromir and I have already spoken," Aragorn told him before glancing uneasily at Gandalf. "He has it covered." _"Hope Boromir can fix this – strange behavior – using him?"_

"So long as Pippin can warn us about any oncoming dangers," Gandalf said, and Boromir nodded. "Good then we'll head out." _"Need to keep an eye out for Gollum – might find Ori, Oin and Balin – hope we find them – too long – thirteen years – Balrog." _Turning on his heel, he marched toward the right path. Merry, Sam, and Frodo followed him with Legolas and Gimli watching their backs.

Boromir crouched before Pippin, dragging the Hobbit from his muddled reading. Pippin blinked muzzily at him. "Here," Boromir said, holding out his hand. Pippin glanced down to blearily find his silver music buds. "I talked to Aragorn and he agreed it might be best if you try to cover the voices a bit, just for a short while."

Aragorn hovered behind Boromir, glancing back occasionally to where the others had disappeared up the tunnel. When Pippin made no move to grab the ear buds, Boromir took it upon himself to situate them in Pippin's ears. Removing Pippin's translators, he slipped the ear buds in their place. The translators were tucked away into his pocket for future use. The techno-pop music resonated through Pippin's ears and into his body, sending him into a semi-aware state. The voices sank to the back of his mind as his conscious focused on the music. The dull throbbing of the headache receded and relief washed through Pippin. He had peace for a moment.

Then his whole world shifted suddenly and he found himself draped across Boromir's back. The Man held an arm around his back to support him while his free hand clutched Pippin's hands around his neck. They jolted forward. Pippin felt himself swaying back and forth in time with Boromir's loping steps. The music played energetically in his ears. Pippin allowed himself to be washed away with the techno-piano and altered guitar notes. It held the voices at bay but for those closest to him. Among the many familiar minds of the Fellowship were strange, alien thoughts of desire, hatred, and vengeance. Only one real word reached his consciousness as he began to doze.

"_Murderer."_

O.o.O

The Goblin captain crawled like a lizard across the ground with his arms and knees bent at odd angles. His head swung back and forth, his fingers searching the crags and rocks, as he moved. One hand clutched his sword tightly. The metal weapon scraped across the ground with each step. Pausing at a passage, the Goblin sniffed delicately. The familiar stench of death met his senses. Any other time he would have been happy to smell this. But not this time. The reek was days old at least. That could only mean it was loose.

This was unnerving. Licking his lips, the Goblin captain thought through his options. For years he'd been living under the fear of _Urkhus_. It devoured his troops when they wandered down to these parts of the mine and occasionally left the tunnels to go on a Goblin killing spree. Ever since he'd discovered the source of the disappearances the captain had been sending a few of his men down here each week in hopes the _Urkhus'_ hunger would be sated. Their bones would be left at the mouth of the tunnel for the rest of the troops to find. It had kept the _Urkhus_ at bay.

For the first time in his measly life the Goblin captain crawled forward into the dangerous territory. He didn't dare stand at his full height. It would have a higher chance of giving him away to the _Urkhus_. He inched his way down through the tunnels until he'd reached the first checkpoint. This was as far as he dared go. No Goblin survived past this point. This was _Urkhus_ territory. Sitting back on his haunches, the Goblin captain reached into the pouch he'd slung over his back.

"I brings a gift," the Goblin captain spoke into the dark. "A gift for the _Urkhus_ of these tunnelses." No answer came to him immediately. Drawing out his hand, the Goblin king clutched a handful of fresh meat. He'd had one of his troops leave the mountain and hunt for rabbit. It was an attempt to assuage the _Urkhus_ before anything else happened.

"We hopes you doesn't kill us," the Goblin continued. He dropped the meat on the floor before him. "I've broughts you fresh meats and water." For the second gift he unwound the oilskin of water from around his calf. He laid it next to the meat. "Eat, drink, sleep, and be happy. I asks no more."

With his gifts left, the Goblin captain hightailed it out of the tunnels. He'd been one of the few lucky to survive passing through that territory. Hopefully more of his men would too.

O.o.O

"Have you heard anything?" Gandalf asked in a soft voice. Aragorn glanced sideways at his friend. "Any sign of Gollum?"

"None," Aragorn answered. "If he was following us then he's long gone."

The Fellowship had been traveling for several hours with only two breaks up the slowly winding staircase. Aragorn and Legolas had swapped places, the Elf acting as a rear guard, so Aragorn could speak with the Wizard. Merry, Sam, and Frodo continued to lag behind alongside Gimli who urged the young Hobbits on. Pippin and Boromir came next, the youngest of all the Hobbits dead to the world. No one had had the heart to wake him after they took one look at Pippin's sleeping face.

"We can't be too sure," Gandalf said. Stepping over a small pile of debris – what it was he didn't want to know – he continued on up the stairs. "You've hunted Gollum before. You know the extent of his tricks."

"I thought I saw something before," Aragorn said. "But I wasn't sure. It could have been a trick of my eyes in the dark. Boromir says Pippin saw something before we left. It jumped."

"It could have been Gollum," Gandalf surmised. "What did you see?"

"A figure perched on a rock when we passed that large ravine," Aragorn said. Glancing over his shoulder to check on the Hobbits, he continued in a softer voice. "It was crouched over like an animal. There were two lights, like lamps, that shone in the dark."

"That's undoubtedly Gollum," Gandalf said with a sigh. "What he was doing all the way out there, I'll never know."

"There's more," Aragorn said. Gandalf glanced at him with a curious eye. The will-o-wisp like light of his staff cast their faces into eerie shadows. "I overheard Sam and Frodo talking. They think they've been hearing a strange swishing sound, almost like a rope."

"And what about you? Have you heard it?"

"Aye. I've heard a strange crunching sound as well. Something is following us. It doesn't sound like Gollum's feet, though."

"Then it may be a friend. We can't know unless we confront it." Aragorn scowled at Gandalf who sighed. "No, I don't mean that. We don't have the energy to fight off another warrior. We can only hope it's not a Goblin and call it a day." Aragorn huffed in amusement, choking on his laughter when Merry spoke up.

"Are you two done chatting already?" the Hobbit demanded. "My legs feel like they're going to fall off and Frodo's falling asleep on his feet."

"Am not," Frodo mumbled.

"If you weren't complaining every twenty minutes," Gandalf snapped over his shoulder. "We'd get there fas-ter." He tripped over the last word as his next step finally brought him to level ground. Aragorn grabbed at the Wizard's shoulder but missed as Gandalf stumbled forward. The Wizard straightened up, turning around to smile at Merry. "You see. We've reached here just as you started complaining again."

"Not sure why that makes you happy," Merry said, following Frodo out of the tunnel. The rest of the Fellowship came next, Legolas bringing up the rear. They stood together in a loose group at the top of the staircase.

Gandalf ignored Merry's comment as he turned to examine the halls. "We've overshot the level of the eastern door," he said, and Merry groaned. The Hobbit fell to the ground at Aragorn's feet and refused to get up when the Ranger nudged him. "But we've reached the habitable parts of the mines. Here we can rest safely tonight."

"What is this place?" Sam asked. Gimli, whose eyesight was best in the dark, stood silently staring into the shadows.

Gandalf spared an amused glance to Sam before he raised his staff. "Welcome, my friends," he said. "To the lost Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf." The light at the end of his staff shone brighter, illuminating the great cavern before them. Boromir jostled Pippin awake. The Hobbit mumbled sleepily then gasped as he saw the marvelous sight.

It was larger than anything else the Hobbits had ever seen. Great geometrical pillars rose high into the air where they met the gently sloping ceiling. They marched down the cavern in row upon row like perfect soldiers, eventually vanishing entirely into the dark. There seemed to be no end to the sheer size of the cavern. Cords thick as Aragorn's arm spanned from one pillar to the next. Some still supported ancient hovercrafts while others hung limp in the air. Their purpose had long since failed.

"There's an eye opener," Sam said. "And no mistake." Merry grumbled in agreement.

"I think that'll do," Gandalf said. The light diminished slowly, plunging the small group back into the gloom. "We wouldn't want to give ourselves away. We'll camp out here tonight."

"Where?" Boromir asked, shifting his arm to better support Pippin. The youngest Hobbit mumbled sleepily. His head landed back on Boromir's shoulder. "We'll be sitting ducks out here."

"I saw a room somewhere over there," Gimli said. Gandalf turned to him and he vaguely waved his right hand. "The door was open. We'll be able to defend ourselves in there."

"Lead the way," Gandalf said. "Aragorn and I will follow. There's no telling what we'll find in there."

Drawing his sword, Aragorn followed Gimli through the gloom. The quiet footsteps of Hobbits and Elves followed him. Boromir's loping stride brought up the rear. Together they marched across the debris-strewn floor. Several Hobbits tripped, caught only by Legolas' quick hands.

Aragorn and Gimli stepped in first once they'd reached the door. Gimli made a confused sound and Aragorn blinked in astonishment. It was a rather large room with two rows of plastic crates lining each side. Once colorful tapestries hung in tatters from the walls. A great hole gaped in the ceiling, the chunks lying about the room. Old metal and wooden toys were scattered about the floor

"Aragorn," Gandalf said from outside.

"It's clear," Aragorn said, slowly sheathing his sword. Gimli trailed away from the doorway to bend over a pile of steel blocks. A dim light filled the room as Gandalf entered. The rest of the Fellowship traipsed in after him. Frodo and Sam both stopped in their tracks at the sight before them.

"It's a nursery," Merry said in realization. Aragorn glanced back to him in confusion. Even Gandalf made an inquiring noise. "My mam works in places like these all the times. It's a nursery."

"This is no Dwarf nursery," Gimli said, straightening up. He tossed a metal block into the air. "These toys are too small. They're made for wee bairns."

"I have seen rooms like these in our reservations," Legolas said as he looked around. "The _Perian_ demanded we make rooms like these to accommodate their young."

"Told you," Merry muttered angrily. Frodo stomped on his foot. "Ow! What was that for?" It earned him a punch on the shoulder from his cousin. "Stop it! I didn't do anything."

"You're being mouthy again."

"Why would Dwarves have a Hobbit nursery?" Boromir asked over the bickering Hobbits, looking about. Pippin had begun to doze off once more.

"I heard rumors," Gandalf admitted. Raising his staff, he examined a particular wall. The light cast shadows across it, making monsters dance on the wall. "A group of Dwarves stole away with some Harfoots to repopulate the race when Sauron attacked. This must have been the breeding area they used."

"Oi!" Sam exclaimed, catching the Wizard's attention. Gandalf turned to stare at the furious Hobbit. Sam planted his hands on his hips and gave Gandalf a rather stern glare. "Don't talk about us like we're animals. Just because the Government treats us like that doesn't mean we are."

"That's not what he meant," Frodo assured his friend with a small smile. "He's just using general terms." Sam grumbled under his breath angrily.

Gandalf turned back to the room once more. "This is a good place for us to stay for the night," he said. Gimli tossed the metal toy to the ground where it settled with the rest. "Everyone settle in a corner. I'll take the first watch. Aragorn, you take over for me in three hours then Boromir. We'll leave in the morning."

"Impossible to tell what's morning," Sam muttered as he marched toward the designated corner. Gimli had already collapsed to the ground, preparing for sleep.

"There are windows in Dwarrowdelf," Gandalf told the Hobbit. Sam and Frodo fell to the floor beside Gimli. Merry settled down between them, wrapping his arms around Pippin when Boromir lowered the whining Hobbit to the floor. "There's enough starlight outside that we should be able to see the first light when it rises. Until then rest. It's another two days before we reach the other side of the mines. We've been lucky enough to make it this far without meeting anyone." Sam sighed and settled back on the floor, his arms crossed over his chest.

Wandering toward the corner, Aragorn settled down on the floor beside Frodo. Boromir took up a position on the other side of the Hobbits. Gandalf seated himself on a misshapen boulder. A trail of smoke emitted from his pipe moments later. Aragorn leaned back against the wall and tried to relax. Despite the amount of tension in his body he managed to follow asleep in seconds. The last thing he saw was pinpricks of light just outside the door.

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I hope all my Tolkien fans are enjoying this story. I don't want to be butchering a wonderful piece of work. More tomorrow . . . hopefully._


	34. Nursery Stories

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good morning, er, afternoon!_

_. . . :3 What can I say without giving anything from the chapter away? I suppose I could say this: we've reached the sort halfway point of There and Back Again. 65 chapters is kind of hard to split in half. I don't know how much longer it will be until this story reaches the end. I can't wait to see._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Nursery Stories<strong>

"Legolas." A firm hand shook Legolas by the shoulder. "Legolas, wake up. It's your turn for the watch." Sighing, Legolas dragged himself out of his peaceful sleep. In the gloom of the night he could just barely make out Boromir bending over him. The Man wore an exhausted scowl that suggested a desire to sleep and never wake again.

"Has anything happened?" Legolas asked softly.

"Nothing," Boromir answered. "I didn't see anything on my watch and neither did Aragorn or Gandalf. It's been quiet all night. Do you need any help?" His eyes flicked to Pippin who had wrapped his arms around Legolas' waist. The Hobbit snored softly, his nose twitching in his sleep.

Legolas glanced down at the Hobbit nestled into his side. "A bit," he said regretfully. Together he and Boromir managed to unwind Pippin's arms from around his waist. Pippin whimpered but didn't wake from his heavy sleep. His strong grip shifted to Boromir's arm. Boromir gave Legolas an exasperated look. "Hobbits are quite clingy creatures when they want to be," Legolas said, trying to hide the amusement in his voice. "Peregrin just happens to be the clingiest I have ever met."

"I am sure you have met many," Boromir grumbled. Legolas stood and the Man slowly eased himself into the Elf's former sleeping place. Pippin snuggled against him, as though seeking for warmth, and sighed contentedly.

"I have," Legolas said. "I have a brother and sister who are Hobbits: Briar and Rose. My father adopted them once he discovered they were orphans. They are perhaps slightly less clingy than our Hobbit friend here, but their grips can hurt when they want to."

"What about Bilbo?" Boromir asked curiously. "I have heard you and Aragorn talk about him before. Were you friends?"

"Aye," Legolas said. He glanced down at his feet with a sigh. "Tauriel and I helped him and Thorin's crew escape when they were on their own journey. Bilbo has many my friend for many years now. I consider him my brother of sorts."

"A good friend then," Boromir said, nodding. The move shifted Pippin gently who mumbled and pressed against Boromir's warm body. The Man glanced down at him and stilled.

"Indeed, though he was not nearly as clingy as any other Hobbit I have met," Legolas said before giving Boromir a slight bow. "Sleep well, Boromir. I hope you get more rest than I did."

"Unlikely," Boromir grumbled.

Smiling to himself, Legolas made his way to the boulder the Fellowship had been using for guard duty. Someone, perhaps Aragorn, had laid out a blanket for a bit of comfort. Legolas took his seat against the boulder, crossing his legs. Gandalf's staff stood above him wedged between two boulders. The light cast eerie shadows along the wall. Legolas ignored the creepy images to stare at the doorway. Despite the light from the staff he could hardly make anything out. The outline of the small doorway stood in the gloom. Just past it he could see the edges of pillars.

Legolas watched the door for nearly an hour. Neither his gaze nor attention wavered from it. As an Elf he was prone to sitting in one place for inconceivable amounts of time and never get bored. Briar and Rose had made their opinion very clear on the matter, as it tended to intercede with their playtime. Sometimes Legolas just did it to make fun of his younger siblings. It would cause temper tantrums and more than once Rose, the dominant twin of the two, had thrown heavy things at him to break his attention. It only made him try harder.

Nothing remotely interesting happened in the beginning hour Legolas had been standing guard. Occasionally the sound of a rodents squeaking in the night would scuffle past. Legolas ignored them. As long as the rats didn't come near him he didn't mind their presence. This was, after all, their home. The hour had just barely begun to bleed into the second when it happened.

A hand crept out of the shadows and into the doorway. Legolas stiffened, his own hands going instantly to his bow. He didn't shoot, though. There was no telling what was out there. The hand inched forward until an arm followed it. Ever so slowly it evolved into a shoulder and a creature Legolas had never seen before crawled into view. It was unnaturally thin and moved around on its hands and the feet in a crouched position. Its head swayed back and forth, as though it was smelling the room. A long, rope-like object swung off its shoulder.

Slowly, so he wouldn't startle the creature, Legolas drew an arrow and notched it. The creature hadn't seem to have noticed him yet. It continued moving fully into the doorway. Its fingers searched along the stone floor. The end of the rope dragged along the floor though the creature never seemed capable of stepping on it. Its feet moved around the rope, never once coming near to tramping its own device. Legolas stood from his seated position and raised his bow. The feather of the arrow brushed along his cheek. In the gloom he could make out his own shadow on the wall.

"_Daro,_" he hissed. The creature froze, its head swiveling on its neck. Pinpricks of light landed on Legolas. They seemed to examine him for a moment. "_Daro, yrch_." The creature turned its entire body to face him. Legolas stiffened but he didn't shoot. Dry lips smacked in the dark.

"_Yrch,_" the creature said. Its voice was hoarse, crinkling like dried paper. "_Yrch._ _Ahhud. Khazad._"

Legolas' finger slipped ever so slightly on the string. "Step into the light," he ordered. The creature seemed to consider his words for a moment before its shoulders gave a great heave. Legolas stepped back a pace when the creature rose up onto its hind legs. It swayed unsteadily for a moment before stumbling toward Legolas. At this close proximity Legolas could see it was clearly a bipedal creature, though it moved uneasily. Its steps seemed unpracticed. Slowly the creature moved forward until it stood barely a yard away from Legolas.

"_Yrch_," the creature said again. One shaking arm raised. A finger pointed directly at Legolas. "_Laegil. Mellon._"

"Who are you?" Legolas hissed. His voice shook slightly with the words. A niggling presence in the back of his mind told him he knew what this was.

The creature cocked its head. "_Khazad_," it said in its croaking voice. It stepped further into the light. "_Mellon._" Even in the flickering gloom of Gandalf's staff Legolas could make out the finer details.

His body had long since lost the small amount of fat it once had had. His stomach had sunk in, clinging to the ribs and displaying the signs of starvation for all to see. Scars littered his chest and stomach. Several disappeared down the hem of his pants which hung from his frame, held up only by a rope. His long, red hair had turned black with years of neglect. It clung to his scalp in geometrically zigzagging cornrows. They met at the nape of his to form a single braid that swung past his waist. There was no mistaking that nose, even with the scar that ran diagonally across it and the sunken cheeks.

"Ori," Legolas breathed. His bow lowered, the arrow pointing to the ground. Ori cocked his head and made a curious sound. "You are alive," Legolas found himself saying. The Dwarf hummed. "_Mellon_, you are alive!" His cry echoed off the walls of the nursery. Ori leapt back in surprise, his hands flying to his waist. Legolas' shout had roused the rest of the Fellowship. Aragorn and Gandalf were on their feet in a flash. Gimli drew his axe, swinging it through the air. Boromir, trapped as he was, could only hold Pippin close to his side.

"Legolas," Aragorn barked. "What is it?" His harsh words sent Ori skittering toward the door.

"No, wait," Legolas cried. Leaping forward, he landed before Ori. The Dwarf scuttled back, falling into his crouched position once more. "_Daro_, please. We do not want to hurt you." He could see Ori's frame trembling with the fear of being trapped.

"What is it?" Gandalf demanded. Marching to the boulders, he wrenched his staff free and raised it high into the air. The light shone brighter for all to see. Ori sank back at the sight of the light, curling in on himself.

"Please," Legolas said to Gandalf. "Douse the light. You are frightening him."

"Frightening who?" Sam demanded. He stood beside Frodo who stared at Ori with wide eyes. "Who's this?"

Harsh words fell from Ori's lips. Legolas didn't recognize many of them but he knew enough to tell they were Khuzdul. Gimli's axe clattered to the floor, making a racket in the small space. Ori flinched back from it. His entire body tensed, preparing for a fight. Gandalf lowered his staff in awe. The light dimmed slightly.

"Ori," Gandalf said, and Ori made a strange choking sound. "Ori Durin, where have you been for the past thirteen years? Your brothers are worried sick." Gimli remained standing where he was. His knees shook uneasily.

"Ori?" Aragorn breathed. Stepping forward, he held his hands out in a placating manner. The Dwarf shrank back in on himself. "It's all right, Ori. It's me: Estel. You remember me? We met many years ago on Rivendell."

"Est-el," Ori repeated softly. Aragorn nodded encouragingly as he continued to move slowly toward Ori. The Dwarf considered him for a second. His head swiveled around to peer at each member of the Fellowship in turn before he seemed to give up. Rearing back on his legs, he rose to his full, short height. "Estel Dunedain."

"That's right," Aragorn said gently. He eased himself into a kneeling position before Ori. The Dwarf watched him warily. "Just Estel. I've missed you." Ori hesitated for a moment before trembling fingers reached out. They traced along Aragorn's face for several long seconds. Aragorn allowed the actions, keeping himself still despite the pain in his knees.

"Estel," Ori said again. His shoulders seemed to slump in relief. Legolas relaxed from his tense stance. "Aragorn son of Arathorn."

"Just Aragorn," the Ranger told him. "Or Strider, if you'd like." This made Ori smile and he leaned forward to whisper in Aragorn's ear. Whatever he said made the Ranger laugh. "Aye, I suppose you were right. I do have long legs."

"Pay up," Ori said, wiggling his fingers. Aragorn snorted and patted Ori on the head. The Dwarf pouted. "Pay up. I win."

"Not now," Aragorn said. Ori scowled at him. "Later, when we're not in danger of dying in a mine." Ori huffed furiously and swatted Aragorn across the head. The Ranger only chuckled and stood.

"Ori," Gimli croaked. The older Dwarf leaned around Aragorn to see his friend. Gimli stared at him in both wonder and horror. "Ori, d-do you . . . remember me?"

"Gimli," Ori said, brightening up. "Couldn't forget you, old friend." Gimli's lips twitched with a smile. "Never forget you." His eyes roved over the rest of the Fellowship. "Tharkun," he said, and Gandalf straightened up. His staff shone a little brighter. Ori's eyes shifted toward Boromir and the four Hobbits. Sam shifted uneasily and Pippin made a curious noise in the back of his throat. Boromir held him and Merry closer to himself. "Bilbo?" Ori chirped. The hope in his voice was so much that Legolas' heart sank to be the bearer of bad news.

"No," Legolas said, and Ori's lower lip jutted out. "No Bilbo. We cannot seem to find him in this wide universe."

"Need to tell Thorin," Ori said. "Needs to know."

"Perhaps," Gandalf said before anyone else could speak. "This would be a better conversation over some food." His eyes darted meaningfully toward Ori's thin frame. Legolas glanced sideways at his small friend. At the mention of food Ori had perked up. He looked about himself hopefully, as though he expected the food to jump out at him.

"I'll get it," Aragorn muttered. He marched toward the pile of bags while Gandalf herded the rest of the Fellowship into a loose circle. Ori seated himself between Legolas and Gimli. His hands remained on his knees, occasionally sneaking out to pinch either Gimli or Legolas' leg. Legolas didn't brush the hand away. It seemed as though Ori was reassuring himself this wasn't all a dream.

Aragorn handed the food around the group. Legolas accepted his share uneasily, aware of Ori watching him. The Dwarf looked ready to grab at the food if he didn't get his share. When Aragorn passed Ori some dried meat and fruit the Dwarf snatched them before anyone else could take them. Legolas and Aragorn pretended not to notice. If what they thought was true then Ori had just spent the last thirteen years alone in a mine. He wouldn't have any thoughts to propriety or what others thought of him.

The addition of food as well as company seemed to humanize Ori. His body relaxed into a more welcome state. He laughed at anything Gimli said and responded in fluent Khuzdul. Gimli chuckled at the words, occasionally shaking his head. Ori conversed with the others as he ate, sometimes speaking with his mouth full. No one dared to correct him on his manners. Legolas and Aragorn smiled warmly when he spoke in Sindarin to him. Frodo leapt in surprise when he found himself addressed in Hobbitish but responded with a welcome tone.

"You look like Bilbo," Ori commented in Westron. Conversing with the Fellowship had brought back his ability of speech. It was as if he hadn't bothered to practice in his time alone. Frodo shifted uneasily in his seat. "Do you know him?"

"We're distant cousins," Frodo said. Ori made an inquiring noise and he continued. "He named my grandfather his inheritor. It passed on down through the family and came to me. I'm Frodo Baggins."

"Fosco Baggins," Ori said thoughtfully. He stuffed a handful of dried oranges into his mouth. Sam frowned at the manners but didn't say anything. "I remember when Bilbo wrote the will. Fengel was so amused when he saw it he signed right away."

"You knew Fengel?" Pippin asked excitedly. Ori looked to him curiously. It only seemed to make Pippin perk up even more. "I've seen Bilbo's will. I'm his second cousin once removed on his mother's side; Peregrin Took, but everyone calls me Pippin or Pip."

"Meriadoc Brandybuck," Merry said when Ori looked to him. "You can call me Merry."

"Samwise Gamgee," Sam introduced himself.

"And this is Boromir." Pippin patted Boromir on the knee. The Man wore a pained but curious expression as he watched Ori.

"I met Lord Fengel the first time we passed through the Rohan System with Bilbo," Ori said, chewing thoughtfully. "He liked Bilbo a lot, called him Underhill all the time."

"Yes," Gandalf said. He watched Ori as if the Dwarf was a puzzle to solve. "Ori, have you been alone down here for the past thirteen years?"

"Aye," Ori said. He examined his bag of dried fruit, pouting when he found it empty. Gimli handed him his own. Ori brightened up immediately and continued to speak. "I've had the Goblins for company. Sometimes they wander down my tunnel. They call me _Urkhus_."

"Demon?" Gimli repeated in Westron. "What sort of name is that?" Ori shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His eyes remained glued to the floor to hide his expression. "You didn't?"

"Nothing else to eat," Ori mumbled. His worn nails dug at the stone, drawing shapes through the dirt. "Didn't taste good. Didn't have a choice. Rats are too hard to catch." A silence fell over the group. Boromir wrapped an arm around Pippin's shoulders, drawing the Hobbit in close.

"None of us blame you," Legolas said, being the first to speak. Ori's shoulders trembled. A wet spot appeared in the dirt by his ankles. Carefully Legolas wrapped an arm around Ori's shoulders. The Dwarf leaned into the touch. "You had no choice but to survive. It was the only thing to keep you alive."

"Ori," Gandalf said in his deep voice. Ori's shoulders stiffened in Legolas' hug. "Have you been following us this entire time?" Ori nodded. "What about Gollum? The creature who's been stalking us for several days."

"I attacked him," Ori whispered. "I remembered him from Bilbo's stories and chased him away when he got too close. I only wanted to protect you. The Goblins in these mines would kill you the first chance they got. I wasn't going to do anything."

"No," Gandalf agreed, ignoring Boromir when the Man snorted. "I don't believe you were. Can you tell me what happened to you, from the beginning?"

Ori lifted his head slightly to examine Gandalf. He spoke after several seconds. "We received a message from Bilbo thirteen years ago, a single word: Moria," he said. "Balin, Oin, and I decided to travel here to Moria to try and find Bilbo. Dain sent us with a crew of handpicked Dwarves. We arrived at the Dimrill Gate and searched around but we couldn't find anything. They attacked us when we weren't expecting it." He fell silent and shuddered at a memory.

"Who?" Aragorn urged when Ori refused to speak. "Was it Orcs?" Ori shook his head. "Then who attacked you?"

"Spiders," Ori said. "They were waiting for us outside the gate. We didn't notice anything until Nali fell. I remember and pricking pain in my neck and then I passed out. The next time I woke up we were in the halls of Mazarbul. Balin and Oin had managed to fight off the Spiders and retreat with whoever survived back into the mines. Oin decided to search down by the western gate after a few days. The Watcher in the Water took him. _Athelas_ was up by us at the time. She gave this horrible sort of screech and just disappeared into the mines. She must have gone to save Oin because we never saw her again."

"The Watcher in the Water," Merry repeated. "That must have been what attacked us. Does it have tentacles?" Ori could only shrug and shake his head. His braid whipped back and forth in his lap. "It attacked Frodo when we first entered the mine."

"What happened after that?" Gandalf asked Ori.

"When Oin didn't return Balin decided to search down by the Mirrormere," Ori said softly. "An Orc shot him in the back. We managed to rescue his body and buried it in the halls of Mazarbul. It was only me and a few other Dwarves after that. Then the Orcs came. There were drums, drums in the deep. I tried to send out an SOS call for anyone to hear but it was too late. They came and killed everyone else. I managed to escape with _Albatross_ and _Sons of Durin_. I've been living in the mines ever since, waiting for someone to come along."

"Thorin has been worried about you," Gandalf said. Ori glanced up hopefully. His fingers twitched on his knees. "Your brothers are dying to see you again. They would have come but . . ."

"Bilbo," Ori guessed, and Gandalf nodded. "Is he still running?" Another nod. "He needs to stop. It won't help him anymore. We can do more for him than anyone else in this universe. It more important he can even begin to understand. Balin would know what to do if he were here."

"Would you mind showing us to Balin?" Gandalf asked softly. "I would like to see for myself." Ori hesitated for a moment then nodded. Standing, he brushed his hands on his stained pants. In the brighter light Legolas could see the black stains on the Dwarf's arms. He swallowed hard. What would Dori and Nori think of their youngest brother when they saw him?

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Ori wasn't actually supposed to appear for a short while, but I got this idea and it wouldn't leave me alone. So, voila, Ori hath returned! Let me know what you think._


	35. Mazarbul Challenges

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good afternoon!_

_I'm on a roll today! I should really be doing my homework but I'm having too much fun with this._

_Enjoy! Please review!_

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><p><strong>Mazarbul Challenges<strong>

The Fellowship shouldered their packs and prepared to leave. Ori resumed his crouched position on the floor but at Legolas and Aragorn's urging stood on his legs. The movement seemed unfamiliar to him. His actions were carefully calculated and anyone could have recognized the twitchy reactions. Ori hadn't stood on his own two legs for a very long time except for fights. His feet seemed to dance across the floor with light movements and his shoulders rolled back and forth.

Once everyone was ready Ori led them out of the nursery on shaky legs. He paused outside the door for a split second to grab a staff and a sword. The sword he strapped to his waist while the staff remained clutched in his right hand. Legolas examined the longer weapon for a second. A flicker of recognition ran through him when he spotted the familiar scarred surface. It was Oin's staff.

"I rescued it from the Orcs," Ori said, noticing Legolas' curiosity. "It's all I've had of them for the past thirteen years."

"I understand," Legolas said. He laid a warm hand on Ori's shoulder. The Dwarf gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Do you know how to use it?"

"Of course," Ori said with a hint of pride in his voice. "I've been training myself while I haven't been hunting or searching the mines."

"Nori will be proud of you," Gandalf said as he wandered up behind Legolas. The light of his staff remained dim for Ori's sake. The Dwarf hadn't reacted well every time the Wizard had tried to enhance it. "Now, if we may continue that would be wonderful."

"This way," Ori said, jerking his head into the gloom. Without waiting for a response he disappeared into the shadows. His shoulders remained hunched forward, ready for any attacks to come, and he used Oin's staff for support. It clicked on the floor with each movement.

"After you," Aragorn said to Legolas with a wave of his hand. "You've known him longer than I have." Legolas gave him a withering look but followed Ori into the gloom. The Dwarf's sickly pale skin seemed to glow in the dark. The years of loneliness had been harsh on him.

The rest of the Fellowship trailed after Legolas and Ori. Gandalf came next, holding his staff high in the air, with Aragorn and Gimli at his side. Boromir brought up the rear, herding the four Hobbits together. Pippin, for the first time since they'd entered the mines, seemed coherent and lively. He spoke with Merry and laughed at anything his cousin said that was remotely funny.

Dwarrowdelf hadn't changed much in the hours since the Fellowship had last seen it. The pillars still rose high into the dark and the cords still swung through the air. The only difference were the miniscule shafts of starlight that speared through the gloom. White ghosts seemed to flit in and out of the pillars, never truly coming into the light. Ori moved easily through the lost city, stepping over piles of debris. He moved in an odd fashion: his body twisting back and forth as he walked. His head rose for a few seconds then fell back to his chest then moved from right to left. Legolas watched the peculiar action for a few seconds then realized what his friend was doing. Ori was scanning the dark. He suspected anything could come out to attack them.

Ori led them between the pillars of Dwarrowdelf. Occasionally he would stop the sniff the air or search the area around him. Only when he was completely certain the coast was clear did he allow them to continue. No one dared say anything against his actions. Ori knew these tunnels better than any of them right now. He was their only guide in this mess. Ori's meandering path led them toward a starlit door on the north end of the city. It shone brighter in the dark than any of the other rays of starlight.

"This is the Chamber of Mazarbul," Ori said once they'd reached the slightly ajar door. "The chamber of records." They stood in a loose formation around it. No one wanted to be the first to step in. Ori fell back into his crouched position but Aragorn nudged him out of it again. It would be some time before the Dwarf would learn to stand on his own once more.

"Are we going in?" Pippin asked when he realized no one made the first move.

"I don't see why not," Gandalf said. Moving through the group, he used a hand to push the doors open. They squeaked on rusted hinges. The starlight shone brighter with the blocking doors gone now. Legolas followed Gandalf with hesitating steps into the room.

The Chamber of Mazarbul was a fairly large room with only two doors, one at the north end and one at the east. The stone walls had begun to crumble in their old age. A balcony of sorts had been carved out of the walls. It ran along the length of the room, occasionally missing portions. Pillars scattered the room. A few remained where they had stood while others had been knocked onto their sides. In the center of the room was a stone table. Upon it sat a marble coffin. The beam of starlight shone down upon the tomb, casting it into a cold light.

Gandalf approached the stone with Ori and Legolas at his side. Gimli, Frodo, and Aragorn stood across from them. Along the upper part of the tomb had been carved Khuzdul runes enclosed in a box. Legolas knew enough of the Khuzdul runes to recognize the words:

_Here lies_

_Balin Son of Fundin_

_First-Mate of the Arkenstone_

"He's dead then," Gandalf said sadly. Gimli moaned. His helmet bumped against the tomb with a clank. "It's as I feared." Legolas stared at the tomb in disbelief. How could this have happened? One of his longtime friends had died a painful death in Moria, a wise Dwarf who deserved a better burial than this

"I told you," Ori said sadly. He ran a hand sadly along the tombstone. "I come here as often as I can. Sometimes I have to chase the Goblins away."

"I am sorry," Legolas said in a strained voice. Ori leaned against his leg. "I know he meant a lot to you."

"You too," Ori said. "I remember when you and Balin used to have such long conversations. Dwalin would get so annoyed he'd start yelling at his brother for it. I'll miss him." Pippin moved out from behind Boromir, staring at the tomb with a furrowed brow.

"We need to be moving," Boromir said. "We can't linger here. The Goblins could come."

"Ori," Gandalf said. "Do you know of a safe way to the eastern gates? The Watcher in the Water has blocked the western gates." Ori nodded slowly. "Which way is it?"

"Just through that door," Ori said, pointing to the eastern door. "We can take the Bridge of Khazad-dûm out. It'll lead us to the Dimrill Gate."

"How long would the journey take?" Aragorn asked.

Ori shrugged noncommittally. "A day," he said. "Maybe more if we run into trouble. The Goblins down here are scared of something."

"I thought they were scared of you," Merry said in confusion. He grabbed Pippin when his cousin made to wander around the room. Pippin tugged uselessly at the collar of his jacket.

"Something other than me," Ori amended. "I don't know what it is but they worship it."

"Then you haven't seen it?" Gandalf asked, and Ori shook his head. "Good. We need to leave before we wake it up. Ori, lead us on. I trust you the most to get us safely out of these mines." Ori nodded his head and shifted the grip on his staff.

"Let go of me, yeah," Pippin grunted at Merry. His cousin attempted to keep a grip on his coat as Pippin struggled. It slipped when Pippin stomped on his foot. The sudden loss of support sent the younger Hobbit stumbling back and, before anyone could stop him, he collided with a skeleton perched on a well.

No one moved for several seconds as the skeleton slowly tipped backward. It disappeared with a great clanging, the racket growing louder as it collided with the walls. A chain trailed after it with a strange sound. Pippin stood where he was, flinching when the wooden bucket followed afterward. The clanging and banging sound the chain, skeleton, and bucket made sent shivers down Legolas' spine. The cacophonous noises echoed off the great walls of Moria. They seemed to reach every corner of the mountains. Pippin stiffened, twisting his fingers together.

No one spoke for several seconds as they stood stock still. Slowly the sounds died away. Aragorn relaxed from his tense state, sharing a relieved look with Boromir. Legolas sighed, his shoulders slumping. Ori stood beside him with Oin's staff at the ready. His hand had already darted toward his sword.

"Fool of a Took," Gandalf muttered, though it sounded half-hearted. "Next time be a bit more careful. There are foul things in these mines we don't want to wake up." Pippin swallowed hard and nodded. "Now, Ori, if you'd be so kind . . ."

_Boom_. Gandalf's shoulders stiffened with the great rolling drum. _Doom, doom. _The booming sounds carried up through the well and echoed off the walls around them. _Doom, doom._ Pippin raised his head to look directly at Gandalf with unseeing eyes.

"Orcs," he whispered just as a great screeching sound joined the drums. The clattering of feet accompanied them, metal weapons seeming to bounce off walls and floors.

"We need to get out of here," Boromir growled, drawing his sword. Legolas drew his bow and notched an arrow as the rest of the company drew their own weapons. Ori held a sword in one hand and Oin's staff in the other. His firm grip suggested a competency with the weapons he may have not once had.

"No running now," Ori said. "We stand and fight."

"Sam, Frodo, Merry, Pippin," Aragon barked. "Stay close to Gandalf." The four small Hobbits found themselves herded toward the Wizard. Both _Glamdring_ and _Sting_ glowed blue in the dark.

Boromir leapt forward to peer out the doors of the chamber. An arrow whistled past and lodged into the door, just barely missing his head as the Man jerked back. Aragorn darted forward and together they dragged the doors shut. A furious howling roar echoed down the hall.

"They have a cave troll," Boromir said in disgust.

"We need to block the door," Aragorn said. "Gather anything you can." Ori hurried forward and helped the Man and Ranger gather old weapons from the floor. They lodged into the wood easily enough and remained firmly stuck. The three warriors danced back as the doors shook. Aragorn drew his bow and notched an arrow, taking up a spot beside Legolas.

"We need to escape through the east door as soon as we can," Gandalf said. "It's our only way out of these mines."

"Wait for my signal then follow my lead," Ori ordered. He swung his sword in a loose circle at his side.

"Let them come," Gimli growled, raising his axe. "There are still two Dwarves in Moria who still draw breath." Ori barked a Khuzdul word of agreement. The doors of the chamber shook furiously with a squealing laughter.

"Stand your ground," Gandalf ordered. "We fight to the last man standing." Sam gave him an incredulous look. Ignoring the look, Gandalf raised his voice. "Who comes to disturb the rest of Balin Lord of Moria?" His words echoed through the hall and seemed to fill the very space. The door shuddered with another laugh. Ori crept forward, remaining low to the ground. Legolas didn't even notice his presence until the Dwarf stood directly beside him. Ori held Oin's staff horizontal with the ground. The sword remained vertical and ready for battle.

The door shuddered several more times as fists battered against it. Screams and howls rent the air. One roar in particular made Boromir shrink back from the door. Finally, after several agonizing minutes, the door began to give. Strips of wood ripped out of the door. Several planks flew into the room from their home, clattering to the floor.

At the first sign of an Orc Legolas released his arrow. It screamed through the air and pierced the foul creature directly between the eyes. The Orc fell back with a garbled howl. Another took its place in only seconds, this one felled by Aragorn's arrow. Together the two archers fire arrow after arrow into the door. Orcs fell with each one but still they came. The doors shuddered in their frame, eventually giving way when the weight became too much. The Orcs poured into the room. They were pale-skinned creatures that moved about on crooked legs. Deadly scimitars and spears swung through the air. They wagged their black tongues and jeered at their adversaries.

Ori was the first to respond. Leaping forward with a Khuzdul roar, he swung the staff around. Several of the smaller Goblins fell back with squeals of horror.

"_Urkhus!_" they cried in terror. "_Urkhus!_" They struggled to shove past one another in their attempts to flee Ori's wrath. The larger Orcs howled for them to stand their ground and charged forward at the Dwarf.

It became clear rather quickly Ori was not incompetent when it came to the use of weapons. He moved with the grace of a dancer, dodging and parrying blows with quick spins and simple ducks. His braid swung through the air, occasionally striking Orcs in the face or chest. Oin's staff screamed through the air with ease and struck anyone who came to close. The sword jabbed and sliced away. The Orcs and Goblins before him fell back in fear when they realized the true capability of this Dwarf.

"Elendil!" Aragorn shouted, breaking the spell. Drawing Andúril, he charged forward. Boromir and Gandalf both gave a great shout and followed him into battle.

"For the Shire!" Merry howled, leaping forward. His sword found a home in the thigh of an Orc. The Orc in question yelped in pain and struck out at Merry. The blow was blocked with a sword from Boromir which quickly ended with a severed Orc head. Merry drew his sword and darted forward once more.

The Orcs had clearly not expected such a response from their enemies. They swung and jabbed with weapons, howling furiously when one was felled. None of the Fellowship took any chances and sliced at any Orcs who came too close for their liking. Several Orcs fell with wounded knees thanks to the Hobbits.

Fate looked to be on the Fellowship's side when the roar came once more. A Goblin backed into the room, a heavy chain in his hands. On the other end of the chain was a cave troll. It was a monstrous creature unlike the trolls Bilbo and his company had met. Its shoulders were rather broad and covered with a thick hide almost like a rhino's. It held a large club in one of its great paws, swinging the weapon around and taking out a portion of the wall.

"Look out!" Aragorn shouted, jumping aside when the cave troll stomped at him. It gave a furious roar and turned its dumb eyes on Boromir. The Man backed away, raising his sword. The cave troll advanced on him.

"Here," Gimli shouted from the tomb even as he took out an Orc with his axe. "Over here, you great brute!" His shout caught the cave troll's attention. Releasing another screaming roar, the beast charged for him with a raised club. Gimli leapt out of the way just in time. The club connected with the tomb. The stone cracked under its weight and collapsed inward. Furious at the loss of its prey, the cave troll whirled around to search for Gimli. Its eyes fell on Frodo and it moving toward the small Hobbit.

Laughing at the destruction the cave troll caused, an Orc chieftain leapt onto the tombstone. It gave a great howl and beat at its chest with its fists. Ori shouted furiously at the debauchery of his friend's tomb and threw his sword at the Orc chieftain. The Orc swept it aside with his own sword, barking a laugh. Fury welled up in Legolas. He prepared to shoot the Orc chieftain down from its pedestal with his last arrow when the Orc gave a strangled howl. Clutching at its knee, it fell back onto the tomb. His cry ended in a choked sound and he fell limp. Something beneath the Orc shifted. The body surged sideways, a sword drawing back with a squelch, and it collapsed to the ground. The familiar white forked beard shone in the starlight.

"_Du bekar,_" Balin said in a low tone. "_Du bekar!_" Gimli and Ori gave answering shouts and leapt back into the fray. Raising his pointed sword high into the air, Balin threw himself forward. The Orcs and Goblins fell back with surprise even as the three Dwarves cut them down.

_Fwump_. Liquid fire sailed through the air and connected with the back of the troll. The cave troll reared in agony, backing away from a gasping Frodo. _Fwump . . . fwump . . . fwump_. The sound came again and again as several globs of plasma struck the mass of Orcs.

"_Albatross,_" Ori shouted happily.

"_Sorry, laddie,"_ came the answering voice through the PA system. _"Just Oin. _Albatross_ and _Sons of Durin_ are busy out here."_

"Oin," Legolas shouted happily. Swinging his bow out, he struck at an Orc. It fell with a squeal of pain, landing a pile with the others.

The numbers of the Orcs and Goblins dwindled. They were no match for the Fellowship with the addition of _Athelas_ and Balin. Their forces fell to the fierce weapons of the Fellowship and they were defeated with only wounds to the Fellowship. The cave troll managed to throw a spear randomly before Legolas and Aragorn's combined arrows sent it keeling over, nearly falling on Sam.

A hushed silence fell over the room. Sam and Merry stood on either side of Boromir wearing shocked expressions. Sam's chest heaved with both adrenaline and exhaustion. Ori straightened up slowly, using Oin's staff to support himself. Balin looked about himself at the mess and the bloody Fellowship.

"Well," he said. "That could have been a whole lot worse." Gandalf chuckled and even Legolas gasped in relief.

"Y-You're alive," Ori said in disbelief. Balin turned twinkling eyes on him. "B-But . . . how?"

"Medical mites," Balin said. "They forced my body into a comatose state when you buried me in the tomb. I suppose they did the same with Oin when _Athelas_ rescued him from the Watcher in the Water."

"What about a catcher?" Oin asked. The near-deaf Dwarf stood in the doorway, his _Eagle_ floating behind him. Two more zipped back and forth through the shadows like pale ghosts. _Athelas_ gave a welcoming chirp to the gathered Fellowship.

"Mr. Frodo, where are you?" Sam called, drawing the Dwarves' attention away from each other. Oin and Balin both made surprised sounds to see three Hobbits near them. Oin pinched Merry's ear curiously, earning himself a slap on the head.

"I'm here, Sam," Frodo said. He stumbled out from behind a pillar, clutching his side. "I'm all right, just a bruise."

"We need to leave," Ori said even as fresh howls filled the air. "Now, before the Orcs get here."

"Quickly," Gandalf said. "To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!"

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_How many of you saw that coming? :D Castor gave me that idea months ago when I was still writing There and Back Again. I realize this may not be the best chapter but in my defense fight scenes are hard to write._


	36. Khazad-dum Dooms

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good evening!_

_This chapter is brought to you by . . . no homework getting done for the day but a good feeling with what I've written. Oops!_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Khazad-dûm Dooms<strong>

"Quickly," Gandalf said. "To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm." His words were accompanied by a great roar. The Hobbits quailed at the sound and even Legolas darted back in surprise. Gandalf turned slowly on the spot, his hand gripping his staff.

"What was that?" Boromir demanded. He turned to Gandalf. "What new devilry is this?"

"_Urkhus_," Balin said, drawing a shudder from both Oin and Ori. Merry opened his mouth to speak but Frodo punched him in the shoulder. This wasn't the time for hijinks.

"It's a foe beyond any of you," Gandalf told the Fellowship. "Weapons are no use here anymore. Ori, lead the way. The _Eagles_ will be able to find their own way out." _Athelas_ gave a supporting chirp before lifting off from her position behind Oin and disappearing into the gloom. Two ghostly shapes followed her, flitting past for only a second.

"This way," Ori said as he darted for the eastern door. The Hobbits followed him with Balin and Oin close behind. Neither Dwarf pressed for an explanation, both knowing now was not the time. Boromir came after them with Legolas and Gimli. Aragorn paused beside the door, turning to Gandalf.

"Go, Aragorn," Gandalf said. "I'll stay to seal the door behind us. Lead the others on." Aragorn gave him a single nod before disappearing into the darkness of the stairwell.

It had once been a small corridor of some sort. Perhaps torches had burned along the walls but no longer. The entire company of Men, Hobbits, Dwarves, and Elves were plunged into the pitch black. Only Ori's excellent vision in the dark and his knowledge of these mines kept them all from tumbling down. Those without the excellent sight of Dwarves felt their way through the dark tunnels. Several times Frodo stepped on someone's foot. He didn't know who it was but they would gasp and curse him.

They reached the bottom of the stairs with time to spare. Aragorn met them there, his bow clutched in his hands. The stairs opened to a great cavern below. What had once perhaps been a great hall or city was now desolate and destroyed. Stairwell upon stairwell looped their ways back and forth across the great expanse. Abandoned ships many decades old sat cold as steel at their ports. Several had been stripped clean of their parts by the Goblins. A great fire seemed to burn in the very bottom of the cavern.

"This is the First Deep," Ori said. Merry and Pippin stared horrified into the great fire below. "One of these stairwells will lead us to the Bridge of Khazad-dûm and we can take the Bridge up to the First Hall. From there we'll be at the eastern gate."

"Which stairwell?" Sam asked." There's thousands of them."

"Unlikely, laddie," Balin said, planting his hands on his hips. "Most of the bridges have been destroyed by the Goblins. Ori, which way do we go?"

"This way," Ori said. "Where's Gandalf?" The Hobbits looked about themselves in confusion and Aragorn glanced toward the stairs.

"I'm here," Gandalf said, stumbling out of the stairwell. "I remained up by the door to seal it. Something is coming. I didn't see what exactly but it frightened the Orcs. We're no match for it. Lead on, Ori."

Ori leapt toward the only intact stairwell from their small perch. The only other one had been destroyed by a careening ship which was now lodged into the wall of the cavern. The stairwell itself would lead nowhere but death. The Fellowship followed Ori quickly but carefully down the stairs. Their footsteps were muted now against the stone. All around them was a great screeching of Orcs and a _doom, doom_.

The steep stairs carried the Fellowship deeper into the First Deep. Ori's feet never wavered as he wove his way through the many stairs. Occasionally someone would find themselves teetering on the edge only to be grabbed by Legolas or Aragorn's quick hands. The further down the stairs led the hotter it seemed to grow.

"Is there a fire down here?" Sam asked, even as the red glow seemed to grow beneath them.

"No time to speak," Gandalf shouted from the back of the line. "Fly! Fly!" Sam huffed but obeyed, hurrying after Balin. _Athelas_, _Sons of Durin_, and _Albatross_ shot overhead. Their mithril coats shimmered in the red glow from below. Occasionally they shot off globs of liquid fire at the wall, supposedly taking out unsuspecting enemies.

An arrow screamed through the air and stuck itself in Gandalf's hat like a black feather. The Wizard gave a shout of surprise but didn't stop running. The arrows rained down from them above countered by the _Eagles_' only shots. They bounced off the stones steps and, in one case, Frodo's chest. No one stopped to question the miracle as they continued to run. Orcs tumbled from their perches above tucked into balconies and behind pillars with each shot the _Eagles_ released.

"Legolas," Aragorn shouted from the back of the line. The Elf glanced over his shoulder but didn't turn to the Ranger. "Catch!" Something flew through the air and Legolas managed to catch it as it passed by his head. Aragorn had tossed him his spare quiver wrapped in an oilskin. Grabbing the edge of the oilskin, Legolas whipped it off the quiver then grabbed the handful of arrows. The quiver flew off the end of the airs as Legolas brandished it through the air. It disappeared down into the deep abyss, leaving Legolas with a handful of arrows and a waiting bow.

"Watch your heads," Aragorn shouted as Legolas prepared his bow. Notching an arrow, the Elf drew the bowstring back and let it fly. The arrow screamed through the air disappeared into the pillars above. A screech came shortly after and a figure fell into the abyss.

"Excellent shot," Oin shouted. Legolas fired another arrow even as he ran. This one found a home in an Orc poking its head out from behind a pillar.

"Keep going!" Boromir called from his place behind Pippin.

"It's not far, now," Ori shouted back over his shoulder. His most recent choice of stairwell led them to a level plane. Leaping down the last missing step, Ori disappeared into a wide doorway. The others followed quickly after, the Hobbits having to be helped across the small gap. They simply didn't have long enough legs.

The doorway led into a great hall. The once pristine pillars lay on their sides. The sandstone floors had cracked with age and neglect. Ori danced through the cracks with ease, heading for the wide expanse beyond. There was no wall on the other side of the corridor. Frodo could just barely make out a narrow Bridge spanning the gap to the other side.

"The Bridge of Khazad-dûm," Gandalf shouted. "Ori, lead them. Go one by one across the bridge otherwise you'll fall." _Doom, doom._ The sound seemed to be drawing nearer. Dirt and rocks alike rained down from the ceiling as the ground shuddered. Glancing over his shoulder, Frodo saw a great red light filling the doorway behind them. Something was coming. Legolas, now void of any arrows, spared his own glance.

"Ai!" he cried in fear. "The Dwarves were not wrong! It is a Balrog of Morgoth!"

"Fly!" Gandalf ordered.

Ori darted across the bridge with Gimli close behind. Balin and Oin came to a stop and flanked the entrance. They urged each of the Hobbits across before following them. Boromir trailed after the Dwarves then Legolas. Aragorn paused for a split second, urged on only by Gandalf's shove.

"Go, your weapons are useless here," the Wizard shouted. "There is no power in the universe that can defeat the Balrog." Ships screamed overhead as they fled the oncoming terror of Dwarvish nightmares. Arrows flew through the air, though they had become less now with the coming of the Balrog.

Upon receiving another shove from Gandalf, Aragon raced across the Bridge after Legolas. Many of the other members of the company had already gathered on the other side. Pippin waved his through the air, urging Aragorn on. Boromir stood behind the gathered Hobbits. His head whipped around as he seemed to examine his surroundings.

"Go," Aragorn shouted when he'd reached the end of the Bridge. He motioned for Ori to lead the way up the stairs toward the doorway. "Go! Gandalf will meet us." Ori turned on his heel and fled up the stairs with his crewmembers and old friend close behind. Legolas and Boromir worked together to herd the Hobbits up the short flight of stairs. Pippin dug his heels into the ground and refused to move, screaming in a high tone when Boromir lifted him onto his hip.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf's shout caused Aragorn to whirl around. The source of Pippin's distress became clear.

Gandalf stood alone in the middle of the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. His robes and hair billowed around him. He clutched his staff in one hand and the glowing _Glamdring_ in the other. Flames danced in his surroundings. Directly before him stood a creature Aragorn had never seen before. It was a mixture of flames, smoke, and a black beast. It stood on two hind legs, over five times as tall as Gandalf, and clutched a whip in one great paw and a sword in the other. Great leathery, black wings spread as it reared back. A spiked tale whipped back and forth.

"Gandalf!" Frodo shouted.

"Aragorn," Boromir called. Aragorn twisted in time to catch Frodo before the Hobbit could dart past him. The smaller creature twisted in his grip, howling when Aragorn refused to release him.

"Tharkun!" came Ori's cry, followed by Balin's shout and Oin's warning.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire." Gandalf's firm voice carried through the cavern, reaching Aragorn's ears. "Wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn!" As he spoke a white light began to glow about him. It grew brighter as he raised his staff high above his head. The Balrog reared back, its whip raised. The fiery end seemed to scream through the air before striking the shield Gandalf had procured around himself. Sparks flew in all directions from the connection. The Balrog roared furiously at Gandalf.

"Go back to the shadow," Gandalf ordered. The beast seemed to snort in derision before stepping forward onto the bridge. It whip cracked through the air, the flaming red tongues coming dangerously close to Gandalf's face.

"Gandalf," Aragorn said softly. He watched in horror as the Wizard raised his staff and sword together, his fingers clenched.

"You!" the Wizard roared, his voice rising with the power. "Shall not! Pass!" The butt of his staff came down hard on the stone of the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. A thin line of pristine light darted across the surface of the stone. The Balrog gave another snort and stepped further out onto the bridge.

Dimly Aragorn heard shouts rise from those behind him. Ori howled furiously, demanding for his kin to release him. Pippin continued to scream his shrill cry. Frodo scratched at Aragorn's arm, pleading to be released. All Aragorn could do was watch his old friend face off against a monster from the ancient stories.

The stone Bridge gave way under the Balrog's latest step. The stones crumbled into the abyss, beginning at the butt of Gandalf's staff and ending at the other end Bridge. The Balrog lost its footing with the move and tumbled down with the stones. Gandalf stood panting on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm, watching as the Balrog fell. Slowly he turned away and prepared to make his way to the group. Aragorn's sigh of relief turned to a gasp when the Balrog gave one last feeble crack of its whip. The end of the beastly weapon curled around Gandalf's ankle and jerked the Wizard's leg out from under him.

"Gandalf!" Frodo howled. Aragorn kept his grip on the Hobbit even as Frodo attempted to drop his weight in order to escape. Gathering Frodo into his arms, Aragon lifted him onto his hip. It was all done blindly as he watched Gandalf scrabble at the surface of the stone. The Wizard's finger grasped at a single crack.

Time seemed to freeze. Aragorn didn't hear the others shouting at him to run nor the arrows whistling through the air. His entire focus was on Gandalf. The Wizard's fingers strained at the crack for several seconds. Finally he seemed to come to a realization. His struggles ceased and he looked directly into Aragorn's eyes. It was as though the Wizard could see into his very soul. Aragorn felt himself pinned to the wall. The duty would fall to him. He would be expected to protect the Shire System from the Government until they could win their own freedom.

"Fly, you fools," Gandalf gasped out. His fingers released their hold on the crack and he tumbled into the abyss after the Balrog. His staff and glowing sword followed his descent.

"No!" Frodo's howl snapped Aragorn back into the present.

"Aragorn!" Boromir shouted from the stairs. Turning on the spot, Aragorn found Boromir with Merry and Pippin in his arms. Balin had a firm grip on Ori's braid while Oin attempted to force the younger Dwarf up the stairs. Ori continued to howl and thrash against his kin. An arrow flew dangerously close to Aragorn's head and he darted for the stairs after Legolas and Boromir. Gimli led a shell-shocked Sam by the arm.

The doorway led into a long staircase that wound its way along the wall. The left side of the wall had been carved with windows in the side. It made the company easy targets as they escaped the mines. Aragorn followed Legolas up each step, his mind lost in thought. He didn't see the patch of light up ahead until they'd burst through the eastern gate. The starlight shone brightly through, a nearby sun of the Khazad System casting the planet in a dim light. The Dimrill Dale was a treeless area with an expanse of great white stones. Scorch marks littered the area. Aragon didn't even blink when three ships shot through the doorway.

Aragorn let his arm go limp as he moved several paces away from the gate. Frodo slid down his leg to stand alone on the rocks. The Hobbit swayed for a moment before collapsing to the ground, his chest heaving with sobs. Merry, Sam, and Pippin were in similar states. Sam stood beside Gimli, tears streaming down his shocked face. Merry and Pippin had both fallen where they stood. Legolas crouched beside the younger of the two, attempting to coax him out of his curled position. Ori lay in a sobbing heap between Oin and Balin. The oldest of the three Dwarves had yet to release his braid, as though he suspected Ori of attempting to return to the mines. In this light Aragorn could clearly see the sickly pallor of Ori, Oin, and Balin's skin. They had remained underground for too long.

"Estel," Balin said. Aragorn turned to vaguely stare at the Dwarf. "We need to move. We can't stay here for long."

"Gandalf," Aragorn said breathlessly.

"Is gone," Balin said. Ori howled into his arms, his voice shushed by Oin. Balin glanced down with a sad look but continued to hold a firm grip on the braid. "The Orcs in those mines will be able to move across the land without trouble when the planet finishes its revolution. We've no ships and no way to protect ourselves." His words made sense. Something within Aragorn's mind clicked and he forced himself into motion.

"Boromir," Aragorn called. "Legolas, get them up."

"Give them a moment for pity's sake," Boromir shouted from beside Merry. Legolas' attempts to pry Pippin's hands away from his face had been in vain.

"We need to get out of here," Aragorn said. "Before the Orcs come. There's an Elvish Station not far from here. We can take a ship to Lothlórien from there." Turning, he strode toward Frodo. The Hobbit remained where he'd fallen in a sobbing mess. "Come on, Frodo," Aragon said. Bending down, he wrapped his arms around Frodo's thin arms and lifted the Hobbit back onto his hip. Frodo's head landed limply on his shoulder. "Boromir, Legolas," Aragorn called again as he turned to face them.

"Boromir," Legolas said softly. He motioned to the still Pippin.

"On it," Boromir said. He scooped the Reader onto his hip while Legolas lifted Merry onto his own.

"Can you move on your own, Sam?" Aragorn asked as he passed the Hobbit. Sam blinked a few times then looked up at him with a daze expression. "Gimli, help him."

"Come on, laddie," Gimli said, placing a guiding hand on Sam's back. Sam's feet seemed to move on their own accord as the Dwarf urged him forward.

"On your feet, laddie," Balin said to Ori. The younger Dwarf gave a refusing squeal. When neither Oin's nor Balin's ministrations convinced him to stand, the older Dwarf gave in. Reaching down, he dug his fingers into Ori's hair and dragged him upright. The action didn't seem to have injured Ori at all but it got him to his feet.

"There we go," Oin said in an encouraging tone. "It's not far, now. You'll be all right, laddie." Ori shuffled forward with the guiding hands of his friends.

Together the company of Dwarves, Men, Hobbits, and Elves made their way across the stone ground. Though they moved with purpose their minds were elsewhere, turned to the loss of their good friend and guide: Gandalf the Grey.

O.o.O

_Whoop-whoop._ Bofur glanced up from the block of wood in his hands at the strange sound. _Gwaihir_ gave another _whoop-whoop_. Her screens flashed a rather surprisingly black color. Lowering his feet from the crate he'd perched them on, Bofur stood. He'd never heard one of the _Eagles_ make that sound before, at least not in that tone.

"Somethin' wron', sweetie?" Bofur asked gently.

_Whoop-whoop_. Without warning _Gwaihir's_ head lifted forward and downward then clicked into place. Bofur leapt back in surprise as the ship spread her wings and lifted off the floor of the cargo bay.

"Where are ya goin'?" Bofur demanded. "Yer not disappearin' like _Sparrow_ did, are ya?"

_Whoop-whoo_. The screens flashed a dull gray color before _Gwaihir_ flew toward the open cargo bay door and out into the Lothlórien airspace.

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><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_Yeah, so I broke Castor with this chapter. She kept saying "Gandalf?" hopefully. Oops! Anyway, I blended the book and movie together then added a dash of my own imagination. I hope you liked it!_


	37. Mallorn Horrors

Disclaimer: _I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!_

A/N: _Good evening!_

_I'm _so_ sorry for not updating lately! Here's a timeline of what I've been doing in the past three weeks:_

_Wrote Moria Writer's block Try to solve writer's block Come up with new story idea Start writing new story on AO3 and foolishly think I'll write it in my free time when I'm not working on this Work on _Your End is Our Beginning_ for two weeks Writer's block Get Castor's blessing to return to _The Fellowship of the Ring: Into Space_ Realize I don't have my notes with me Make special trip back to school to get them Struggle with writer's block Solve writer's block! Write!_

_Sorry, again!_

_*Updated 3/19/2015*_

_Enjoy! Please review!_

* * *

><p><strong>Mallorn Horrors<strong>

_September 5158, Minas Tirith, Gondor System_

Silence fell over the courtyard. No one spoke for several minutes. All eyes were trained carefully on Pippin. The elderly Hobbit sat still on the bench, his shoulders hunched in on himself as if to hide from some unseen beast looming over him. Beside him was a small pile of plates from elevensies, tea time, and the most recent meal of lunch.

Kili glanced sideways at his older brother. Fili looked unsure of himself. Pippin had fallen silent with the most recent part of their story: Gandalf's death. His shoulders trembled but no tears fell from his eyes. No one knew how to react.

"Pippin?" Ori asked quietly. The Reader didn't respond to his name. Creeping forward, Ori gently placed his hand on Pippin's knee. "Are you all right? Pip?" The Hobbit continued to remain deaf to his words. His fingers trembled around the handle of his cane.

"Peregrin," Thorin said, his voice firm with an uncle's care. Kili recognized it from the amount of times he'd cried when he'd still been a beardling. Pippin raised his head slowly. The fringe of his hair did a poor job of hiding the grieving look in his milky eyes.

"Do we need to stop here for the day?" Thorin asked gently. Moving forward, he sat gingerly on the bench beside Pippin and wrapped an arm around the Hobbit's shoulders. "We can pick up again tomorrow."

Pippin leaned into the touch. "N-No," he whispered, his voice quivering. "I-I just need a minute, y-yeah."

"Take as much time as you need," Balin told him gently. "Oin, Ori, and I can continue on with the next part. You were asleep for most of it."

Pippin nodded gratefully and turned to hide his face in Thorin's neck. Bilbo strode forward to crouch before his young cousin, taking Pippin's hand in his own and whispering in gentle Hobbitish.

Balin jerked his head at Ori. The youngest Dwarf grudgingly moved away from Pippin, leaving Thorin and Bilbo to take care of him. He crouched at Dori's feet, hands flat on the ground beside him. Kili stared at him for a moment before imitating his friend. The position was uncomfortable and made his legs tingle, but it made Ori feel better about himself. The Dwarf hadn't quite lost a few of his habits from Moria. Fili crouched beside his brother, sending him a look that dared him to see which of them could last as long as Ori in the position.

"Where were we?" Balin asked, running his fingers through his beard as he seated himself on a small stool Eldarion had brought out earlier.

Dori placed a gentle hand on Ori's head. "You had just escaped the Mines of Moria," he said. "Gandalf had fallen after fighting with the Balrog." Ori shuddered, stifling a sob, and Dori ran his hand down the length of his younger brother's braid soothingly.

"I was on my way to Lothlórien with Bilbo," Nori said as he reminisced. "That was about the time Bilbo had started to think of an escape plan. _Serenity_ was still chasing _Sparrow_ around the universe."

"Tauriel had landed on Lothlórien after losing the Fellowship," Gloin added. "Lady Galadriel offered her a place to rest and told her to stay on Lothlórien."

"Thorin had just spoken with Lady Galadriel," Dwalin said, crossing his arms. Balin nodded along with his younger brother's words. "She'd refused to give us any aid on sneaking into Moria and suggested we wait on the planet."

"What was it she said?" Kili said thoughtfully. Fili snorted and shook his head. "Oh, yeah, very soon you will have no reason to go near that planet. Like that made any sense."

"Perhaps not at the time," Balin pointed out. "But once we reached the planet it did. As for the Fellowship . . . we had reached the Elvish Station and called down one of the few _Mallorn_ from the sky to take us to Lothlórien. The Hobbits," – at this he sighed – "Weren't doing so well. Hobbits never have dealt with grief very well . . ."

O.o.O

_January 5092, Outside the Mines of Moria, the Khazad System_

Wrapping the blanket firmly around the Hobbit's shoulders, Balin patted the small creature on the shoulder. He was the last of the four to be coerced into sleeping on one of the long beds in the hallway. The other three had fallen asleep quickly enough. Balin supposed this one was the youngest; he looked shorter than the others.

"Thank you," Estel said softly. "I can take care of the rest from here."

Balin gave him a tight-lipped smile. Any other time he would have been prepared to argue – he had plenty of experience caring for distraught Hobbits – but not today. Today he had business elsewhere.

Turning on his heel, he marched down the length of the surprisingly long Elvish ship to a back room. Through the doorway he could see Legolas sitting cross-legged on the floor. The Elf watched something on the other side of the room with a pitying look in his eyes. When Balin stepped in he saw just what it was. Ori had curled up on the floor in a fetal position under a thick blanket. Only his dark, dirt-covered braid could be seen. It curled about on the floor like some strange design.

"Come on, laddie," Oin urged, shaking Ori's shoulder hard. "You need to get up. Balin and I are confused about a few things."

"No," Ori said, sounding like a petulant child. He jerked away from Oin's hands and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "I don't want to." Oin huffed in annoyance, shaking Ori harder in an attempt to make the younger Dwarf move.

Balin and Legolas shared a look as the door slid shut behind the Dwarf. Balin locked it with a press of a button. That would prevent any interruptions for the next few hours until they'd landed on Lothlórien. For now, they important business to get out of the way and there was only one Dwarf who could help with that.

"Ori," Balin said in his firmest voice. The navigator of _the Arkenstone_ whined in answer. The mass of blankets shifted, tightening further. Balin sighed in exasperation. "Get up now," he ordered. "We need answers and you're the only one who can give them."

A minute passed; then two. Eventually Ori rolled himself into an upright sitting position. The blanket pooled around his bony hips. Balin took a moment to appraise his young friend. Ori's body had both deteriorated and grown during his time trapped in the mines. While he'd become emaciated – Balin could count each of his ribs easily – he had also gained coils of muscle wrapping around his arms and torso. Scars littered his body. His eyes carried a sharp, fearsome look that warned others not to mess with him. It broke Balin's heart to see Ori have fallen so far.

"First things first," Balin said, pushing his worries aside for now. Oin sat back on his heels, Ori finally sitting up and looking alive. "How long were we down in those mines? Five years? Seven?"

"Thirteen," Legolas said.

Balin blanched. Had they really been trapped in the Mines of Moria for thirteen long years? He glanced sideways at Ori. That would explain why Ori resembled a warrior straight out of the Khazad history textbooks. That also meant too much could have happened while he'd been entombed. They needed to find Bilbo and fast.

"Second question," Balin said slowly. Legolas nodded, ready to answer any question he could. Balin ignored the Elf and rounded on Ori, knowing the younger Dwarf would have the answer. The younger Dwarf quailed at his glare. "Whose wise idea was it to bury me in a tomb?" Balin demanded.

Ori seemed to shrink in on himself. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders as if to hide his thin frame. "Dain's crew," he mumbled. "I was fighting of Goblins when they did it. I couldn't stop them from burying you. And . . . I forgot."

"About the medical mites?" Balin asked. Ori nodded before hiding his face in the blanket. Balin sighed, dropping his mean act. "I suppose I can forgive you for that," he said. "We all seem to forget about the medical mites from time to time."

"Strange," Legolas said. Balin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. The Elf wore an almost calculating yet curious look. He'd seen that before, perhaps too many times. "You have had the medical mites for nearly eighty years and you still forget about them at the worst of times."

"Stress'll do that to a person," Oin said with a sagely nod. "Besides, you just sort of take it for granted after a while." Balin couldn't have agreed more. Oin had a nice way of putting things bluntly without insulting anyone, unlike some Dwarves Balin knew.

"Ori told us you were attacked by the Watcher in the Water," Legolas said. Oin nodded again. The Elf frowned in confusion. "How did you survive?" he asked. "We were attacked by that creature and we hardly escaped. It pulled the doorway down around itself then ripped up the holly trees just outside."

Oin's eyes narrowed as the Elf spoke quickly. He raised one hand to flick at his ears then shook his head and turned to Balin. Sighing, Balin signed the words in Iglishmek. The medic's face lit up with realization and he returned his attention to Legolas.

"The Watcher snatched me from the gate," he told the Elf. "And dragged me under the water. I thought I was dead for sure. Then _Athelas_ plunged down, shot the beast's tentacle off, and scooped me up. The medical mites sent my body into a comatose state until something woke the Watcher. It, in turn, woke me. _Athelas_ barely made it through the gate before it collapsed."

Legolas nodded as though this all made sense to him. Balin supposed it did. He hadn't exactly been there to witness of this happening. The last thing he remembered was waking up surrounded by stone with the dull sounds of fighting all around him. Still, that didn't excuse the Elf from being there in the first place.

"That brings up another question," Balin said thoughtfully. He turned to Legolas. "What in the blazes," – Legolas' eyebrow raised in surprise at the rough word – "Were you doing in the Mines of Moria? That place is crawling with Goblins." Oin snorted in laughter and Ori ducked his head, hiding his smile. Balin groaned and threw his hands into the air. "It was a figure of speech."

Legolas smiled. "I at least will not laugh at you," he said. Balin nodded thankfully before kicking Oin hard in the thigh when the medic didn't quit chuckling. Legolas' smile only grew. "Do you remember that ring Bilbo found on the Misty Mountains?"

"The one that made him turn invisible?" Balin asked. Legolas nodded in answer. "Aye, I remember. What about it?"

"It is the Ring of Power, the One Ring," Legolas said. Balin's eyes widened at the words and his mouth fell open in shock. "Gandalf discovered this several years ago when Bilbo sent him a message. He hunted the creature Gollum down with Aragorn's help and learned more about the Ring."

"Imagine that," Oin said in disbelief. "It seemed so harmless at the time. What did he do with it?"

"He sent it to his younger cousin," Legolas answered.

"One of the four Hobbits sleeping?" Balin asked, and Legolas nodded. "Which one?"

"The oldest of the four," Legolas said. Balin glanced at the door, thinking of the tallest Hobbit he'd seen. He _had_ looked a bit like Bilbo now that he thought about it. "His name is Frodo Baggins. He is the grandson of Fosco Baggins." At least that explained the resemblance.

"The one who inherited Bag-End," Ori whispered at Balin. The older Dwarf nodded slowly. Something still didn't feel right about this. "One of the Hobbits is a Reader."

"How do you know that?" Legolas said in surprise. "None of us told you."

Ori shrugged and the blankets shifted down his shoulders. He grabbed the corner and dragged it back up. "I could see it in the way he reacted to everything," he said. "He has a lot of the same mannerisms as Lady Galadriel."

"Bilbo sent the most dangerous ring in the universe to his cousin?" Balin said, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. Legolas nodded mutely. "Why in the universe did he do that? What did he hope to accomplish."

It was Legolas' turn to shrug. "Who knows?" he said. "We held a council on Rivendell about the Ring and the decision was made to take to the Mordor System to destroy it. We were taking the path of Caradhras when we were attacked by _crebain_. They damaged our ship with their attack. We were forced to land on Moria or be left stranded in space."

"Perhaps it was a good thing," Balin mused, coming his fingers through his beard. "If you hadn't come then we wouldn't have woken up." Ori mumbled quietly to himself at this realization. Balin ignored him and pressed on. "What is the news on Bilbo? Has he been running away from the crew these past thirteen years?"

"Aye," Legolas said. "Thorin and the crew have been following him all over the System. The last time I heard from them was Nori several days ago."

Ori perked up at that. "My brother?" he asked hopefully. "Is he all right?"

"Nori is perfectly safe," Legolas assured his small friend. Ori nestled into his blankets, a content look on his face. "He sent me a message to pass on to _the Arkenstone_. He said he was with Bilbo and to not answer him, he wouldn't haven't gadget."

"Then we must assume he is still with Bilbo at the moment," Balin said. "We need to speak with him as soon as we can."

"Bilbo or Nori?"

"Bilbo," Oin said. "He sent us a message about Moria. We came searching to find him and were attacked - ."

"By Spiders," Legolas finished with a nod. "Ori told us." Oin gave Ori a look as if he'd eaten the last piece of cake. Ori flushed brightly. "I have been meaning to ask you about that," Legolas said, catching their attention again. "Tauriel and I killed the Spiders all those years ago on the Greenwood Station."

"Not all of them," Balin corrected sadly. Ori's shoulders slumped and Oin shuddered, running his hands down his arms.

Legolas' eyes narrowed as he looked between the Dwarves. "What are you saying?" he asked, though he seemed to already know the answer."

"There was one Spider who escaped," Balin said. He sighed heavily, his shoulders drooping. "I don't know how. He might have taken a shuttle before you left the Station."

"I do not understand."

"He's not dead," Balin said. His words hung in the tense air. Legolas' eyes widened in horror. "Attercop's not dead."

.o.

Aragorn glanced over his shoulder as the door to the cockpit slid open. Boromir ducked into the room, dragging the door closed once more. Despite its Elvish make the metal still screeched with its old age. The Man offered Aragorn a greeting nod. Aragorn returned it then twisted back around to look out the windshield. His teeth clenched around the unlit pipe, his fingers idly playing with the bowl.

The black sky was filled with pinpoints of stars and the occasional sun. Not far away he could see Lothlórien looming in the distance. They'd make it there before the next night, maybe even afternoon with the speed the autopilot was flying them at.

"I checked on Frodo and Sam," Boromir said as he moved to sit in the copilot's seat. Aragorn watched the Man relax against the leather out of the corner of his eye. "Sam has a minor head injury. We'll need to keep an eye out for any concussions."

"What about Frodo?" Aragorn asked. "I saw that troll throw something at him." Boromir huffed quietly. When he looked up Aragorn saw the smile on his lips. "What are you laughing at?"

"That Hobbit," Boromir said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Has been wearing a mithril shirt this whole time. The spear that troll threw at him gave him a bruise, nothing more."

"Did you check for any broken ribs?" Aragorn asked worriedly. "Mithril won't stop that from happening."

"As best as I could," Boromir answered. Aragorn frowned in confusion at him. The Man gave him a meaningful look. "It's a bit hard to give a Hobbit an examination when he passes out before you're finished."

Aragorn laughed breathlessly and shook his head. Turning in his seat, he watched the distant Elvish planet draw near. He drew one leg up onto his chair and propped his elbow on his knee. Neither of the men spoke for several minutes. Eventually Aragorn peeked at Boromir out of the corner of his eye. The Man looked exhausted for their stressful ordeal.

"Why don't you go sleep," Aragorn suggested gently. "I can keep watch here until we land on Lothlórien."

Boromir looked down at his calloused hands. "I won't be able to sleep now," he said. "Not after what happened on Moria."

Aragorn sighed hard and turned back to the windshield. The thought of Gandalf was still fresh in his mind. He could still see his old friend straining to cling to the rock surface, giving in, and falling. It wasn't something he'd ever wanted to see.

"Have you ever seen the White Tower of Ecthelion before?" Boromir suddenly asked.

Aragorn frowned at the question and looked to the Man. Boromir stared out the window with a dazed look in his eyes. For a moment Aragorn wondered if he needed to go get Legolas to check Boromir for a concussion.

"I have seen it," Aragorn said hesitantly. "Many years ago. I don't go near the Gondor System too often. My people aren't welcome there."

"When did you last see it?" Boromir asked, looking to Aragorn. His eyes held a lost, homesick look in them.

Aragorn swallowed hard before speaking. "Over sixty years ago," he said. "I visited the System after Lord Elrond told me the truth about my heritage. He sent an envoy of Elves with me."

"Did you visit Minas Tirith?" Boromir asked in an earnest voice. Aragorn nodded once, his teeth clenching hard around the pipe. "What do you remember about it?"

"I saw the banners caught in the morning breeze," Aragorn answered. His eyes glazed over as he thought back to the first day he'd set foot on what could have been his home planet. "The White Tower rose high into the air like a spike made of pearl and silver. The trumpets were ringing on the walls, welcoming the men home from their travels." Boromir sat back in his seat with a soft smile. Aragorn glanced sideways at him then sighed. "Your father was not ruling at the time. It was your grandfather, Ecthelion II."

"My father is a noble man," Boromir said. Aragorn hummed in agreement. He'd heard enough from Gandalf to think otherwise. "He tried to follow in my grandfather's footsteps but . . . his rule is failing. The Orcs continue to press against our borders. Our people are losing hope with each day that passes. My father looks to me to make things right and I would do it."

"You are afraid," Aragorn said, not trying to sound accusatory. Boromir's head whipped around and the Man glared at him. "Everyone is afraid of being their parents. It's only natural."

"Some of us more than others," Boromir said. The words seemed directed at the Ranger. Aragorn removed the pipe from his mouth, looking down at his free hand. "I heard what that Elf said to you. You're afraid you share the same weakness as Isildur." Rubbing his fingers together, Aragorn didn't immediately answer. "Maybe you should take your own advice."

"I didn't give you any," Aragorn said, his voice strained.

"_Everyone is afraid of being their parents_," Boromir quoted. "You're Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself."

"Many children end up following in their parent's footsteps," Aragorn pointed out. "Who's to say I won't do what my ancestor did all those years ago?"

Boromir watched him for a moment, a calculating look in his eyes. "No," he eventually said. Aragorn raised his eyes to look at the Man. "I don't believe you would. Your values are different from what Isildur's were." He nodded as though thinking to himself. "You're going to go on to do bigger and better things than him. I can see it in your eyes."

Aragorn smiled in quiet thanks and returned his attention to his unlit pipe. He would have liked to actually smoke the tobacco but trapped oxygen and an open flame didn't mix well. Boromir straightened up in his seat, his attention turning to the closed door. Aragorn knew that look all too well now.

"Pippin?" the Ranger said knowingly.

"He's awake," Boromir said. Sighing, he stood from the seat and headed toward the cockpit door. "I better see what's woken him up this time."

"Good luck getting him back to sleep," Aragorn said.

Boromir scoffed at that. Any words the Man said were cut off by the cockpit door slamming shut again. Aragorn chuckled softly to himself and turned his attention back to his unlit pipe. He only needed to be patient for a few more hours then he'd be able to smoke all he wanted. He could use one after what he'd just been through.

.o.

"_What_?" Legolas hissed out. Ori shuddered and pulled the blankets over his head. "What do you mean alive? Attercop was a Man. There is no way he could have survived seventy-seven years. He would have to be an old man by now."

Balin turned to Oin, searching for support in their words. The medic looked almost guilty with what he said next.

"That's just it," Oin said, twisting the hem of his shirt together. "I don't think he's a Man."

"He may have Man in his blood," Balin pointed out. Legolas looked between the two of them, the fear in his eyes growing. He'd seen what Attercop was capable of before. "But I think there is some Elvish in there somewhere. He does not look any older than when you saw him."

"Then you spoke with him?" Legolas said while Oin reached over and attempted to tug the blanket off Ori's head. The youngest Dwarf whined and shook his head hard, refusing to obey the silent command.

Balin shook his head. "More like _he_ spoke," he said. "He laughed in our faces when we made our stand in Mazarbul and told us the truth."

"What truth?" Legolas asked, his throat dry.

Oin stilled in the act of yanking at the blanket. Ori, finding himself free of any orders, tugged the blanket down on his own accord. He looked between the small gathered crew. Balin planted his hands on his hips, unsure of how to continue. Ori saved him from having to.

"He's mad at Bilbo," the navigator told the Elf. "Apparently when you saved Bilbo back on the Greenwood Station you also got Attercop in trouble. The Government refused to pay him since he'd failed and his mother was furious. She won't let Attercop rejoin her web until he's managed to catch Bilbo again."

"Then Bilbo has been running from Attercop for seventeen years?" Legolas said in disbelief. Balin nodded sadly. "That is horrible! Why would he not tell anyone the truth?"

"Attercop told us about that too," Balin said. "The fool of a man thought we were going to die so he spilled everything. Apparently he's been blocking or warping all of Bilbo's messages to us. Anything that got through would have led us to our death."

"It almost did," Ori said. Oin clapped him heavily on the shoulder. "That's why we need to find Bilbo, so we can help him fight against Attercop."

"It's time our Child of the Stars stops running," Balin said. "And made his stand."

* * *

><p>AN: _What did you think?_

_I hope you enjoyed it! I was really worried about not being able to write like I was. I accidentally read the Soulless series and started thinking in Old Victorian English. That came out with a very interesting chapter._


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